


Fortune Favors the Gold

by thehousethatfloats



Series: Hearts of Gold [6]
Category: Disney Duck Universe, Disney Ducks (Comics), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Don Rosa references galore, F/M, Gen, It's a Klondike fic, It's rated mature for a reason, Not like you think it did anyway, Scrooge censors his stories, The Golden Lagoon, The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck - Freeform, The glacier never happened, There will definitely be sexy times in this fic, White Agony Creek, White Agony Plains, YOU KNEW THIS WAS COMING, Young Goldie, Young Scrooge, dawson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2020-03-19 18:10:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18975601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehousethatfloats/pseuds/thehousethatfloats
Summary: ‘You told them what?’ Goldie laughed, her eyes bright as Scrooge confessed to an elaborate tall tale.‘That we got trapped in a glacier for years.’ He shrugged.‘How is that even physically possible?’ Goldie demanded, amused. ‘We’d be dead!’‘Yes well, I was under pressure.’ Scrooge excused himself with an apologetic grin. ‘And besides, those kids’ll believe anything. Better they know that story than the truth.’--We know Scrooge and Goldie met in Dawson, in the days of the Klondike Gold Rush. We know they ended up in Gumption years later. We know snippets of stories, censored for a young audience. But only they know what really happened back then.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends! I'm back with yet another Scroldie multi-chapter fic because I can't stop myself. And we're off Back to the Klondike! Expect a lot of references, and plenty of indulgent headcanons exploring the possibilities of why these two old idiots are the way they are.
> 
> This one is a collaboration with the wonderful Mari (https://koizumi-marichan.tumblr.com/) and as well as my rambling words it will also feature her AMAZINGLY BEAUTIFUL ART. 
> 
> I'm aiming to post a new chapter each Sunday, depending on our schedules. We'll do our best!
> 
> Here's a present day prologue to wet your whistle.
> 
>  
> 
> PLEASE NOTE - this fic is rated M for a reason and it WILL contain adult content. It’s Scroldie in the Klondike, that’s kind of a given. Please proceed with caution, but be assured I will flag NFSW chapters as we go.

It was a cold afternoon in late November when Goldie O’Gilt returned to McDuck Manor.

She hadn’t been away all that long, only a few weeks really, since she’d last joined Scrooge and the kids on a Halloween adventure, but it was long enough. These days, a matter of days apart was quite long enough, in her opinion. And, judging by the warm reception she always received when she dropped by, it was for him as well.

They were done pretending they didn’t want to be together. Done making excuses for why it could never work. They were done with so many things... and as a result it seemed they had finally found a window to be... them. Just, them. No labels, no relinquishing of surnames, certainly no contracts, no change really at all - they just stopped fighting the inevitable. They just let themselves be in love for once. And it was working well enough.

Scrooge knew she was there from the telltale sign of a motorbike parked out front by the garage when he returned home from the Money Bin. But aside from that, she was nowhere to be found. He racked his brains momentarily and ran a mental checklist of what might be currently worth stealing under his roof. There wasn’t anything he could think she might go behind his back to take, if she wanted something from him these days she generally just came out and told him she was taking it.

Which is why he didn’t concern himself too much with her absence. She would show herself when she wanted to and, sure enough, after the kids had disappeared upstairs to do whatever they tended to do after dinner and Scrooge settled himself on the couch in front of the fire, she appeared.

‘Hey Moneybags,’ she smirked from the doorway, the firelight dancing in her eyes. Scrooge barely flinched, and turned his head to look upon her fondly. Then he noticed she had something in her hand, something familiar.

‘What are you doing with that?’ Scrooge asked, eyeing the nugget suspiciously. He knew he hadn’t left that drawer unlocked.

‘I’m not stealing it, don’t worry. Unless you’re feeling nostalgic.’ Goldie winked.

‘Are _you_ feeling nostalgic?’ He asked, sensing something on the air. There was something lurking behind her good humour, but he knew better than to try to coax it out right away.

‘Perhaps.’ Goldie shrugged, dismissively. ‘Mostly I’m feeling like I’d like a glass of wine.’

‘Well, that I can help with.’ Scrooge chuckled, going to the sidebar and picking up the bottle of her favourite red that he’d opened earlier in anticipation of her arrival, and two large crystal glasses.

He returned to the couch and sat down, the warmth of Goldie O’Gilt settling immediately into his side. He handed her her glass and she took it gratefully, taking a restorative sip and sinking back into the softness of the cushions with a sigh.

‘Better?’ Scrooge asked.

Goldie nodded. ‘Much,’ she said, and snuggled closer into him, while his arm slipped around her waist and his fingers danced along her spine. Between them, the golden nugget glittered in the firelight.

She turned to kiss him, once, and then again, when she decided once wasn’t quite enough.

‘I missed you,’ Scrooge confessed. She rolled her eyes and scoffed, but he knew she felt the same way even if she wouldn’t admit it.

‘It’s been three weeks, don’t be so needy.’ She teased. Scrooge chuckled and watched as she made her way quickly through her first glass of wine. He didn’t ask what stresses her day had held, nor was he forthcoming with details of his own. It wasn’t something they talked about. And that suited them just fine.

 

 

An hour and a full bottle of wine later and their talk had turned, as it so often did, to the past. When they weren’t having new adventures, they often turned to reminiscence about old ones, even though they generally had gloss over the details when the kids were around.

Thankfully, the kids were not around tonight.

‘You told them what?’ Goldie laughed, her eyes bright as Scrooge confessed to an elaborate tall tale.

‘That we got trapped in a glacier for years.’ He shrugged.

‘How is that even physically possible?’ Goldie demanded, amused. ‘We’d be dead!’

‘Yes well, I was under pressure.’ Scrooge excused himself with an apologetic grin. ‘And besides, those kids’ll believe anything. Better they know that story than the truth.’

‘I understand not wanting to explain to your kids in graphic detail just how much wild sex we were having back then, but you could have just said you kidnapped me to work off a debt for something I stole from you.’ Goldie nudged him in the ribs.

‘Kidnap?’ Scrooge objected. ‘As if they’d believe I’d do such a thing!’

Goldie laughed, and let him take her almost empty wine glass and deposit it on the table beside them. When he turned back, she reached up to stroke her fingers along his jaw. His eyelids fluttered at the contact.

‘You’re adorable sometimes, you know that?’ She murmured, fighting the urge to kiss him again. If she started now, she’d never stop.

‘Only sometimes?’ He asked, cheekily.

Goldie pretended to consider. ‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘Sometimes adorable, sometimes infuriating, sometimes stupid as hell...’

‘Alright,’ Scrooge grumbled, immediately stiffening and shifting slightly away from her. Goldie paid his delicate ego no heed.

‘Sometimes smart. Sometimes sexy.’ She continued slyly, her foot slipping further between his legs, brushing up his thigh. Scrooge bristled, suddenly back in the game. ‘ _Usually_ sexy actually...’

‘Even now? Now that we’re old and past it?’ Scrooge grinned, catching a lock of her golden hair and twisting it carefully around his finger, noting how her highlights caught the light and revealed the smallest hint of the silver beneath.

‘Especially now,’ Goldie said quietly, seriously. ‘We were such idiots back then, both of us. But now... this...’ she gestured to the comfortable closeness between them. ‘I never thought we could have this. I never thought I wanted it. I knew _you_ did...’

‘Oi,’ Scrooge objected, his own insecurities bubbling to the surface again. He’d always been more in love with her than she was with him. He knew that, he didn’t need reminding.

‘Let me finish,’ Goldie scolded, gently. ‘I knew you did, but I didn’t know what I wanted. It took me so damn long to figure it out. But it was always you, Scrooge. Even back then, it was you. I just didn’t know what that meant.’

‘Goldie...’ Scrooge began, but he trailed off. He knew this was it, this was what he’d seen earlier, buried under the surface.

‘God, we were so stupid,’ she whispered, almost to herself. She swallowed heavily, and Scrooge’s hand hovered by her shoulder hesitantly. ‘We wasted so much time.’

‘This isn’t like you,’ Scrooge sat up, finally taking her hand. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ she insisted, shaking her head firmly. ‘I just... I love you, Scrooge.’

Those words hung in the air, crackling like the fire itself.

‘I know you do.’ He said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He didn’t know what had brought this on but he knew what he had to do. He hadn’t always known, he’d been so very bad at all this for so long. But he wasn’t bad at it any more. Or so he thought.

‘Do you really?’ Goldie asked, an edge to her voice. Scrooge eyed the empty wine glass and wondered if he ought to have poured her another.

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Don’t say it like that,’ she insisted, still clutching the gold nugget in her hand. ‘I need you to know... I might not always have shown it. But I’ve always loved you, even back then, in White Agony, in Gumption and the rest. Even when I didn’t know what it meant.’

Scrooge sighed, and laid a hand over hers. ‘You impossible woman. I have loved you since the moment I met you.’

‘Pfft. That’s a lie.’ Goldie scoffed. ‘The first time you met me I drugged you and stole your treasure map.

‘Exactly. You weren’t like any woman I’d ever encountered. You challenged me like no one ever had, and I could barely keep up. You were fantastic.’

‘And you were a virgin.’ Goldie commented.

Scrooge flushed slightly pink. ‘Yes well, thankfully you weren’t.’

Goldie grinned. Certainly she hadn’t been.

Scrooge breathed a subtle sigh of relief, hoping the moment had passed. ‘I wouldn’t change it, Goldie.’ He assured her. ‘None of it. We made the choices we did, and we became who we are now. And now... we have this.’

He didn’t need to gesture between them, she knew what he meant.

‘It was worth the wait, I guess.’ She agreed. But then she fell quiet again and he knew she was deep in thought. He could almost hear the cogs of doubt turning in her mind. ‘Do you ever wonder... about Dickie’s world? How everything turned out so different?’ She asked, eventually.

Scrooge considered his answer. ‘Well, we died there.’ He said, finally. ‘So I think, on reflection, we came off better here.’

‘I know we died there, idiot.’ Goldie grumbled. ‘And we wouldn’t have Dickie here if we hadn’t. I wouldn’t change anything, I just want to know... what was it that changed for us?’ She shook her head suddenly and corrected herself. ‘For them, I mean. I guess we can’t ever really know.’

Scrooge was silent. Above their heads, footsteps thundered and cries echoed through the mansion. The usual sounds of war games before bed. Goldie sighed and tucked herself into his side again, curling around the gold nugget like it could bring some comfort to this strange melancholy.

‘The letter.’ He said, suddenly.

Goldie frowned, and sat up. ‘What?’

He didn’t meet her eye. ‘You wrote me a letter.’ He said, fiddling with the edge of her sweater.

Goldie took in a measured breath. Her heart thumped in her chest.

‘I did. You got it then?’ She asked quietly. ‘I wasn’t sure you did. You didn’t come back, at any rate. Not for a long time. And then we just... never talked about it.’

‘You wanted me to?’

Goldie stared at him, her eyes narrowed. ‘Scrooge, did you even read it?’

‘No,’ he confessed. ‘I didn’t. I didn’t dare to open it. I thought it best to let it lie, after you left I just couldn’t face a rejection. In writing.’

‘Oh you absolute _moron_.’ Goldie groaned, her forehead dropping to his chest.

‘It wasn’t a rejection then?’ Scrooge asked, hopefully. Goldie snorted gracelessly into the fabric of his shirt. ‘What was in it?’

‘I don’t remember.’ Goldie sniffed, her voice muffled.

‘You do.’ Scrooge said, moving to smooth his hand along her spine. He settled just above her tail feathers, and she shifted, curling into him again. She kept her face hidden.

‘Alright, I do.’ She agreed. ‘But it was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter now.’

‘No, I don’t suppose it does.’ Scrooge sighed, and they fell into silence once more.

They could fight. They could shout and scream and break things. But they’d done enough of that. Heck, they’d done enough of that in the Yukon more than a hundred years previously. They didn’t need to fight any more.

They lay together, entwined on the couch, as close as they could get with the golden nugget of a hundred years of memories between them.

There was no point in regretting any of it.

The King of the Klondike and the Ice Queen Of Dawson found their way to their greatest treasure, eventually. It took them a lifetime of adventure to get there, but now they had found it, they weren’t planning on letting it go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here we go! Please enjoy and appreciate the beautiful Mari art. I can't stop looking at it. 
> 
> And yes, Goldie is wearing a shirt that says 'Gold is the new black' because of course she is.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little taste of Dawson... and a premium quality Mari sketch for you! Future chapters will be longer... we're just getting into the swing of things over here ;)

The first time Goldie O’Gilt laid eyes on Scrooge McDuck, she happened to be looking out through the swing doors of her pride and joy, the Blackjack Saloon, just as he was stalking his way through town, a tightly wound coil of pent up frustration and determination, headed for the hills.

She didn’t know anything about him, not even his name. If she’d known his name, she might have realised exactly what she was getting into, since the wild tales of the Buckaroo of the Badlands and the Maverick of the Montana Cattle Wars had made their way on the grape vine even so far as Dawson.

She might not have known who she was looking at, but she knew she liked what she saw.

Never one to let an opportunity pass her by, Goldie quickly checked her hair in a looking glass, straightened her red flannel shirt, and slipped out into the street.

‘Hey - take a break, Argonaut!’ She called out with a grin. He stopped in his tracks at the sound of her voice, and turned. Their eyes met and hers sparkled, while his just narrowed in a suspicious glare. ‘You look like you’ve had quite the journey,’ Goldie commented, eyeing his mud stained coat. ‘Why not stop by for some grub, hmm?’

For a moment, he was tempted. He was hungry, and the promise of a hot meal was something he hadn’t had in a long while. Not to mention the woman offering it... if he’d known any better he might have recognised the twinge that struck low in his belly and sent flutterings behind his ribs for what it was. But he didn’t know. All he knew was he finally had a lead, a map to White Agony valley, and he couldn’t afford to get distracted. People were counting on him. So, after what seemed like an eternity in a few seconds, he shook his head, firmly. ‘Bah, I ate just last week.’ He said, which was true. The woman though didn’t seem to regard this as a reasonable answer and she simply quirked an eyebrow. He felt a strange heat rushing to his cheeks, and he pulled his hat down over his ears quickly. ‘Regular meals are for softies. I’m Scrooge McDuck, I don’t need whatever it is you’re selling, lass.’

‘No, I’m sure you don’t,’ Goldie laughed as he stomped away, still grumbling under his breath. Her mouth was oddly dry as she watched him go. Scrooge McDuck, was it? Suddenly a passing fancy became that little bit more tempting. ‘My my my...’ she murmured as she watched him go.

It didn’t take her long to dig up all the dirt in town on that spitfire of a young duck. She heard every tale, some of which she might have found unbelievable if she hadn’t seen him with her own eyes. But she could well believe he was more than capable of the feats the sourdoughs of the town described, and then some.

It seemed Scrooge McDuck was quite a duck.

 

Her sources kept tabs on him as he made his way through town, stocking up on only the most necessary supplies and heading in the direction of the mountains.

‘Looks like he’s headed in the direction of White Agony,’ Soapy Slick, a fellow bottom feeder let slip in exchange for a stiff whisky and a flagon of ale. ‘Rumour is he’s got a map. Some tip off, maybe.’

‘Wait - what?’ Goldie stopped sharply. ‘He’s got a map? What kind?’

Slick chuckled. ‘The pen and paper kind, so it looks. But what good’s a map of White Agony Valley going to do him? He’s still got to find the gold if he even makes it through the glacier. A smarter man would stick this side of the mountain instead of wasting their time. What’s got you so interested Goldie?’

‘Never you mind Slick, this one ain’t for you.’ Goldie grumbled, the cogs of her mind turning as her eyes narrowed.

The slimy old hognose grinned. ‘Oh, I see. McDuck got you all hot and bothered, has he O’Gilt? Fancy yourself a taste of the old country?’

‘It’s none of your damn business what gets me hot and bothered. Now if that’s all you’ve got for me, get your drink and be on your way. I got a business to run.’

‘And Sourdoughs to swindle...’ Slick added. Goldie glared dangerously but she didn’t deny it. He left her to it, and she remained at the bar for a moment, considering all of the pieces of the puzzle of Scrooge McDuck she’d uncovered so far. He couldn’t have a map to the Golden Lagoon, could he? But why else would anyone have chartered the place? White Agony Valley hadn’t been considered a live gold seam for long, and no one had managed to find their way to the fabled Creek yet, that she knew of. And she made it her business to know of anyone who ventured anywhere close to that damn glacier.

The tale of the Golden Lagoon had brought her all the way to Dawson, and here she had stayed. But she’d never found a way through the mountain, the glacier had foiled her at every turn. She alone knew about the legendary treasure hidden within the mountain - well, now it seemed perhaps another knew of it too. And that just wouldn’t do.

She’d be damned if she’d spent all these years building up a business in this god forsaken hovel of a town waiting for the place to strike gold and chip away at that glacier enough for her to find a way through, for this Scrooge McDuck to find the Lagoon first.

Seething, Goldie turned on her heel and marched upstairs to her rooms.

The game was on.

 

The next time she saw him, Scrooge McDuck had struck gold.

It was all the town could talk about. That McDuck, the little pipsqueak, had found himself a goose egg nugget, somewhere in White Agony Valley, and he’d come back to town to file himself a claim.

Goldie took this news in her stride. The nugget was one thing, but the claim was another. Why should she bother getting her hands on one hunk of gold when she knew there was a much bigger treasure buried somewhere under all that ice. But of course, she couldn’t let on that she had an ulterior motive, not to Soapy Slick, or the girls in the saloon, or anyone else. For all intents and purposes, she set her sights on Scrooge McDuck’s gold nugget.

He took his time making his way to the Blackjack. She’d never known a single prospector passing through Dawson who didn’t at least drop by, but as the days drew on Goldie began to get concerned. So much so that in the end, she took matters into her own hands, and slipped some coins to Soapy Slick and his his crew to make sure he had a reason to stop by the saloon.

‘You’ve really taken a fancy to that young lad, ain’t ya O’Gilt,’ Slick laughed at the indignation evident on her face.

‘Taken a fancy to his goose egg nugget, more like,’ Goldie sniffed, turning up her beak at the unsavoury suggestion. ‘I’m surprised you ain’t made a move yourself. My interest’s no more than that.’

‘Just as well. Talk is that he’s tough as old boots that one, too gamey event for you to chew up and spit out.’

Goldie glared, and watched him go. She’d show Slick and the lot of them, that no man alive could resist Goldie O’Gilt when she decided to put on a show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truly beautiful Goldie art by @Koizumi-Marichan


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we gooooooo - some more KLONDIKE Scroldie for the first day of Scroldie Week!

Scrooge had returned warily to Dawson town. His golden discovery weighed heavy in his coat pocket, and as soon as he stepped across town lines he began to wonder if he ought to have hidden it up in the mountains, where no scoundrel could think to try to take it.

But then of course... he would only have his word to show off his success. And that would never do. Words meant little out in the real world, where action was all that counted, and he’d learned that lesson the hard way a hundred times over since he left Glasgow.

So he set about on his march through town to the registry to file his claim. He didn’t care much about word getting out where it was, not now. None but Scrooge McDuck could find their way through that glacier, he was certain of it. He was the toughest of the toughies and no other man could come close.

 

If there ever was any doubt in Dawson that Scrooge McDuck was as tough as he claimed to be, that doubt quickly abated, the day that Soapy Slick and his operation set upon the wiry young duck as he cut down an alley way next to the registry building, his newly minted deed clutched tightly in one hand, and his shining gold goose egg nugget in the other. It was a fight of more than ten against one, and for a moment it seemed like the young Sourdough had met his match.

Only for a moment.

The commotion could be heard all the way up to the Mountie’s station way up in the hills on the edge of town. By the time the cavalry arrived, a mighty crowd had gathered and Scrooge was knocking two of Slick’s goons’ heads together, while the others (the ones who were conscious, anyhow) did their best to slink away unscathed.

‘What’s going on here then?’ The nearest red coated soldier demanded, baffled by the unlikely scene. Scrooge dropped the two men he had hold of and caught Slick by the ankle, just as he was about to make his getaway. With an unsettling display of strength, or just grim determination, Scrooge dragged the man through the dirt and hurled him across the square, where he crumpled unceremoniously at the feet of the mounted police. Soon after, there followed a sack full of stolen deeds.

‘There!’ Scrooge declared, as two Mounties hurried to restrain Slick and another peered curiously at the papers scattered around them. Scrooge’s chest puffed up. ‘These files will show that Soapy Slick’s behind a lot of claim jumping in your territory, officers,’ he said. ‘Tried to get mine off of me too, but no one messes with Scrooge McDuck!’

‘I should think they won’t, after today!’ The captain remarked, an eyebrow quirked. ‘We’ve finally got the goods on you Slick! We’re deporting you to Alaska on the next boat to Goldboom!’

Slick groaned, and sent curses flying after Scrooge as the Mounties dragged him away, but Scrooge paid him no mind. The crowd remained gathered around him, cheering and snatching up the stolen claims the Mounties had missed, as the prospectors clapped Scrooge on the back for bringing Slick to justice at last.

Some of the men declared he must let them buy him a drink, and he refused at first but once they laid eyes on his goose egg nugget, they wouldn’t take no for an answer. The King of the Klondike indeed, Scrooge McDuck had struck gold and thrown over the worst claim jumper in town! A trip to the Blackjack to celebrate was the very least they could do.

‘You don’t want to miss Glittering Goldie!’ One of the prospectors said, winking. ‘The King Of the Klondike ought to lay eyes on the Star of the North at least once - there’s a memory that’ll keep you warm on the coldest of nights out at your claim, wherever it might be.’

Once he’d made absolutely sure that someone else was buying, Scrooge finally acquiesced and agreed to stop by for one drink. He’d take a sarsparilla, nothing stronger, he wasn’t going to take his chances on these sourdoughs any more than he was on Soapy Slick and his goons.

 

The tales of Slick’s arrest had spread through town like wildfire, and nowhere was more flammable for gossip than the Blackjack Saloon with its newly minted ballroom.

‘What? Slick’s been arrested?’ Goldie frowned, overhearing the scandalous chatter from some of the younger girls. ‘Says who?’

‘Says everyone!’ The girls giggled. One of them, the red head, looked over her shoulder quickly, then leaned in conspiratorially. ‘I heard they cornered him in town and he damn near exploded with rage, blew out all the windows in the street and sunk half of the boats on the river! They took on more than they could chew with that one!’

‘Wait - what? Cornered who? What are you talking about?’ Goldie frowned. She thought they had been talking about Slick, but something didn’t quite add up.

‘Scrooge McDuck of course!’ The red head squealed. Goldie grimaced at the pitch. This girl was new, newer even than the Blackjack’s shining stage. Goldie couldn’t for the life of her remember the little harlot’s name. Something terribly cliche and unflatteringly imitative, Goldie figured, rolling her eyes.

‘They’re calling him the King of the Klondike, and what a king he is!’ Goldie felt a sudden urge to kick this girl in the shin. ‘He’s a spunky young buck of a duck, that’s for sure! I wouldn’t mind visiting his claim sometime, if you know what I mean...’

Goldie’s resolve cracked entirely, and she deftly cuffed the girl on the side of her head. ‘I’m sure I do. That’s enough of that now, Scarlett, you’ll spend your time on paying customers thank you very much, or you’ll find yourself swiftly unemployed, you hear?’

‘Yes Goldie,’ the girl mumbled, rubbing at her temple, her face flushing bright red. If Scarlett hadn’t been her name before, it certainly was now. ‘Sorry Goldie.’

‘Sorry Goldie,’ the other girl echoed, preemptively contrite. She had been at the Blackjack long enough to know when the proprietress meant business. Scrooge McDuck was off limits, that was clear for all to see. And no one would dare cross Goldie O’Gilt when she set her sights on a mark.

Goldie dismissed the girls with an irritated wave of her hand, and they hurried away, before he sought to make her point any firmer.

 _If Slick’s in jail, he can’t be counted on to bring McDuck into the Blackjack before he heads back to his claim. Damn that man_ , Goldie seethed. She hated relying on men. They always left her wanting. And Slick was one of the very worst.

Just as she reasoned she was going to have to take matters into her own hands, and was about to head back to her rooms to change into a more... practical outfit for thievery... there came a roar from down in the saloon. She leaned over the bannister for a better view and there he was, the very duck she wanted to see, with his goose egg nugget in hand.

Casey Coot and the other prospectors had managed to tempt him in after all - most likely to celebrate his victory over Slick and his shady operation. Goldie didn’t mind that one bit, Slick being stuck in jail meant more gold for her, and she was much better at evading the Mounties than he was.

Besides, Slick had no idea what treasure was hidden up in those hills. McDuck had a map and a claim, that’s all he knew, and the pea brained idiot couldn’t imagine a possibility beyond a prospector’s hoard of nuggets. Goldie knew better than that. Goldie’s imagination knew no bounds, when it came to legendary treasures.

She watched him closely, sticking to the shadows and just out of sight. He sat at the bar, taking full advantage of the free food on offer, there to soak up spirits and keep Sourdoughs and their gold dust just sober enough to keep them spending until closing time.

While the dance hall girls began to ply their trade, and the saloon turned their leery eyed attention to the stage, Goldie kept watching Scrooge McDuck. It wasn’t that he didn’t notice the girls at all... he glanced their way a couple of times, and she could see by the way his beak coloured just slightly at the sight of their fluffed up feathers that he wasn’t entirely immune, but he kept his focus on his gold and his drink. It tickled Goldie, a kind of flickering amusement dancing somewhere behind her rib cage. She didn’t know why, and frankly she didn’t care to. There were far more important things at play this evening.

Glittering Goldie wasn’t on the bill that night. The saloon, while raucous, was barely half full. These days, she saved her performances for particularly profitable evenings. But tonight, Goldie reasoned, she would make an exception.

She strode backstage, pushing past the giggling showgirls and heading toward the space allocated to the more seasoned performers.

‘Hey, Snake Hips, take the night off,’ she said briskly, bumping the other women aside playfully. ‘Glittering Goldie’s got a job to do.’

‘You don’t have to tell me twice,’ Snake Hips - known to more respectable circles as Sherrie - chuckled. ‘Don’t think we didn’t notice who’s out there Goldie. You never could resist a strapping young sourdough with a _nugget_ like that.’

‘Shut yer yap and get back down to the bar, McDuck might be my mark but there’s plenty more sourdoughs down there this evening.’ Goldie snapped, but there was little venom in it. She had known Sherrie for a long time, and they were just about as terrible as each other - though Goldie reasoned that she was significantly smarter.

The mirror now vacant, Goldie set about powdering her face and fixing her hair, before stripping out of her perfectly serviceable dress and into her most show stopping one. The glittering golden bodice cling to every one of her ample curves and she tugged it down firmly until it was just barely decent. If McDuck’s eyes simply bugged out of his head at the sight of her, that would certainly make the job much easier.

 

‘ _Hey fella ain’t ya looking nice..._ ’ The moment her voice cut through, the crowd erupted. They hadn’t expected Glittering Goldie to make an appearance after all. Goldie tossed her coiffed golden hair and fluttered her dark lashes, revelling in the roar of an appreciative crowd, but when she turned back to the piano to lock eyes with the pianist for the key change, she risked a glance in the direction of the bar.

Scrooge was staring, his jaw slack. He didn’t seem to be listening to what Casey Coot was rambling about in his ear. His dark, wide eyes were locked on Goldie.

For a second, her own heart skipped a beat. That caught her out, it wasn’t something she’d felt before... not for a long time. Not as a grown woman. Not as the Ice Queen of Dawson that she proudly claimed to be. It was unsettling, but it passed in an instant, and she pulled herself together just enough to wink in his direction, the flush that immediately coloured his beak sending another unfamiliar thrill through her torso. Goldie shook herself and threw herself back into the number before anyone else noticed.

Goldie was known for giving a hell of a show. She worked through her whole repertoire, from gold dust, to nuggets and stars stolen from the night’s sky. And if she ended with her showstopper, well, it wasn’t her fault that her rendition of After the Ball had all the drunkards swooning and spilling their drinks on the floor. She was particularly proud of the way the sway of her hips and the lilt of her voice seemed able to hypnotise even the toughest of prospectors when she sang that particular tune. As she approached the final chorus, the bar alight with voices singing along at varying levels of pitch, she risked another glance in the direction of Scrooge.

Their eyes locked, and suddenly the rest of the world fell away, for both of them. The other voices faded away to a distant murmur and for a moment it was just Scrooge McDuck, the King of the Klondike, clutching his cup of sarsaparilla and swallowing heavily as Glittering Goldie’s voice washed over him like a river ripe with a seem of the purest gold. His eyelids fluttered just a little, and his cheeks grew red again, and Goldie felt herself waver too.

This duck was going to be quite a challenge for her, Goldie mused. But she had never backed down from a challenge yet.

 

Later, when Goldie had given her final encore and bowed to the braying crowd, the bar finally began to empty and Scrooge found himself refusing a whole manner of offers of accommodation, from the seemingly friendly to the bold and obscene. He shook his head firmly to all of them, determined to march all the way back to his claim where he had a perfectly good bed of his own, thank you very much, and moreover it was free, both morally and fiscally.

But as he hopped down from the bar stool and made to gather his coat around him, a voice purred behind him, and the feathers on the back of his neck stood up on end.

‘Well hey there, Sourdough. What’s a handsome duck like you doing so far from home, hmm?’

Scrooge bristled, and as he turned his mouth went dry. He realised then this was the same woman he’d seen in the street many months before, only now she was dressed differently. It seemed the gold rush had been good to Goldie O’Gilt. The golden bodice of her gown glittered like the nugget he kept safe in his coat pocket, and he found he couldn’t stop his eyes flickering over each and every perfectly highlighted curve. He tried to swallow, and found he couldn’t. The woman just smiled, a wide, wolfish grin.

‘A little birdie told me you had some luck up in White Agony,’ she said, casually. ‘Word is you came back to town to file a claim.’ That snapped him back to attention.

‘Aye, and your friend Slick tried to swindle it off of me. He’s locked up and on his way out of Canada by now.’ Scrooge snarled, his knuckles crunching as his fist curled at the indignant memory of his earlier brawl.

Goldie’s eyes flew wide for a second, before settling back in the sultry, heavy lidded gaze that made something dance about, somewhere behind his ribs.

‘Soapy Slick’s no friend of mine, hon,’ Goldie declared, crossing her arms and settling her weight on her hip. The golden silk of her dress caught on her tail feathers so that her skirts rucked up a little and Scrooge found himself oddly fixated on that fact.

‘Claim jumping ain’t my style, don’t fret yourself.’ She lied. ‘But I heard tell of a greater treasure up in those hills. And I think you know the treasure I’m talking about.’

Now it was Scrooge’s turn to narrow his eyes. ‘I’ll be keeping that information to meself, you understand.’ He said, his voice right and his tone clipped.

She might have gotten wind of the Golden Lagoon, Scrooge thought to himself, but she can’t know about the map. And even if she did, a delicate lass like her wouldn’t have a mind to follow too. More likely she’d try to charm him, so he’d return and share his spoils with her, and her bed. It wasn’t an unwelcome thought, even if the reality of it all filled him with embarrassment down to his boots.

Her green eyes stared deep into his, and Scrooge gulped. He was unprepared for this. Swindlers and thieves and scoundrels he could handle, but this... _woman_. He had no idea how to act, what to say, where to look. She seemed to possess some unholy power to see through every carefully crafted layer all the way to his soul. And then a little lower, too. The flutter of her lashes sent a stirring low in his belly. Not to mention the way her golden hair twirled around her fingers, or the way the golden silk fabric of her dress ruched in all the right places, and strained delightfully across her ample chest with each careful breath.

‘It’s late,’ Scrooge mumbled, glancing down to ensure his body hadn’t completely turned against him. ‘I should be going. It’s a way back to... where I’m going.’

‘Won’t you stay for a cup of coffee, before you go?’ Goldie asked, seemingly innocently. ‘It’s awful cold out there, and it wouldn’t do to lose your way on your way back to... where you’re going.’ She winked. ‘A nice strong cup of coffee will warm you and keep you nice and alert.’

‘Aye, I suppose there’s no harm in a cup,’ Scrooge admitted, stifling a yawn. ‘So long as you’re having one too. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.’

Goldie paused, faltering for a moment. Then she plastered a smile back on her face before Scrooge could notice.

‘Of course. We’ll share a pot by the fireplace up in my rooms. It’ll be a fitting farewell, so you might remember me fondly when you go off to find your fortune.’

And so, Scrooge allowed her to lead him up the stairs, ignoring the cat calls and whooping from the barely conscious braggarts stumbling about the bar below, until the door closed behind them and all was quiet once more.

Goldie gestured to the small table by the fireplace, and Scrooge couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of such a bright, roaring fire. It had been an age since he’d seen a fire like that, aside from in the engine room of a steam train. His body betrayed him and immediately relaxed, tempted by the familiar warmth of something like home.

She brushed a soft hand on his shoulder, which ought to have unsettled him but again, it seemed to have just the opposite effect. She smiled warmly as she left him to go and make them a fresh pot of coffee, her hips swaying once again as she made her way across the room. Scrooge wondered for a moment just how any one could move like that. He wondered if her tail feathers moved too, under all that silk and petticoats.

Goldie returned a few moments later, with a steaming pot of strong black coffee, and two cups. She leaned across the table and poured him a generous amount, and he did his best to keep his gaze on the cup in front of him as she did so.

After an eternity, she sat back, and poured her own cup. Scrooge waited until she had taken a sip, and then indulged in his own. Heat flooded through him as the hot black liquid trickled down his throat. It was strong, and smooth, a hundred times better than the tar he made for himself, not that he’d ever admit that.

Goldie spoke in a soft voice, asking him about his travels, about how far he’d come to Dawson. Scrooge settled into the easy conversation - this was something he could handle. Telling the tales of his own adventures came easy. And Goldie seemed to hang on his every word, gasping in all the right places and giggling almost girlishly when he came to describe any particularly heroic feat.

He was half way through the tale that had earned him the moniker of the Buckaroo of the Badlands, when he paused, suddenly. An uneasiness came over him, like someone had cracked an egg on his head and the yolk was running through his veins, all the way to his feet.

‘Are you feeling alright, Sourdough?’ Goldie asked, her voice muffled through the haze that had settled about his ears.

He blinked, his eyelids suddenly heavy, and that’s when he noticed that her cup was still full.

Her green eyes were the last thing he saw before the whole world went black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BLOODY BEAUTIFUL ART by the legend that is @koizumi-marichan


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! It's getting a little steamy in the Klondike. That glacier might melt before we get to it...

Scrooge awoke in a snowdrift, with a headache the size of Canada.

He groaned loudly, his rough voice echoing in the frozen night. He was utterly alone, some six miles out of town at least, with only the howling of the wind and the distance hoots of night owls to keep him company.

His memory of the events that led him to this place were hazy, to say the least. He rubbed at his temples once he’d managed to scramble free of the snow, coaxing his brain to warm up enough to work again.

Goldie O’Gilt... her bewitching emerald eyes were the first thing that swum to the forefront of his memory. For a moment, they were all he could linger on. He remembered the flutter of her lashes and the hitch of her breath, and the way they turned cold as ice just as his world had grown dark.

Then he remembered the nugget. He jumped up, ignoring the burning pain in his wet, frozen legs, and patted himself down frantically, searching for his gold.

Gone. Damn that devil woman. After everything he’d done to fight off Slick and his goons, and the saloon girl managed to get the better of him? Scrooge felt indignation and rage bubbling up inside him, thawing the rest of him out thoroughly.

Shaking off the last flakes of snow that lingered in his tufty feathers, Scrooge pulled his coat tightly around himself, and began the march back to Dawson.

He would storm back into town, and throw open the doors of the Blackjack Saloon, fighting off everyone in his way to get to Goldie, that swindling snake, and no matter what feminine wiles she employed, he would not allow himself to be compromised again. He would wrestle his gold nugget off her himself if he had to, and then he would show he what happened to folk who messed with Scrooge McDuck.

Suddenly in the snow, Scrooge paused. As his brain caught up with his ranting inner monologue, he realised he really had no idea what exactly he would do when he caught up to Goldie. He couldn’t very well rough her up as he might one of Slick’s goons... she was a lady. A thieving, devil of a lady but still... Downey McDuck did not raise a son who would raise his hand to a woman. Not even one like Goldie O’Gilt.

He shook such thoughts from his mind, and set his sights in the glow of Dawson town in the distance.

 

 

The bar was dark when Scrooge pushed through the doors, lit only by the flickering light of the few remaining oil lamps. It was deserted too, save for one couple in a shadowy corner, rutting furiously by the edge of the stage. Scrooge averted his eyes as soon as he realised what was occurring in the intimate scene, but the dance hall girl spotted him anyway over the shoulder of her lover for the night, and grinned widely.

‘Goldie!’ She called out, somewhat breathless but otherwise unfazed as the gnarled old Sourdough continued to get his money’s worth. ‘You’ve got a visitor!’

Goldie spotted him and for a moment they just froze, him on the floor of the ballroom, glaring up at her with his fists clenched at his sides, she poised at the railing on the floor above, her hair still pinned and her make up still perfect, the very picture of a thieving temptress.

She hadn’t expected him to make it back so soon, that was obvious. Perhaps she hadn’t expected him to make it back at all.

And then, the spell broke. Goldie turned on her heel and ran back toward her rooms, and Scrooge gave chase without a moment’s hesitation. He took the stairs three at a time, moving faster than he had any right to do, and reached Goldie’s door just as she was slamming it closed behind her.

Scrooge McDuck was strong as an Ox, and Goldie, for all her ingenuity, could not hope to match him when he decided he was getting through that door. Their struggle was brief, but it took Scrooge no more than a second or two to triumph, practically tearing it off its hinges. Goldie stumbled back, immediately crossing the room to the other side of her bed in order to put something between them at least, while Scrooge stood there in the doorway, fuming.

He did his damnedest to ignore the way her ample bosom rose and fell, straining against the neckline of her golden bodice - just as she refused to let herself linger on the way his eyes flashed with a raging fire, and the taught muscles of his forearms flexed when he pushed up his coat sleeves.

‘You scurrilous minx!’ Scrooge seethed. ‘It takes more than a pot of poison coffee to take out Scrooge McDuck!’

‘Clearly.’ Goldie grumbled, rolling her eyes. ‘I had hoped the snow might help, though.’

‘You stole my gold, ye thieving wench. I know ye did.’

‘I did,’ Goldie grinned, reaching behind her back for the nugget in question and holding it out, almost as a challenge. ‘The question is, what exactly do you intend to do about it?’

Scrooge growled, advancing. His mind was whirring at a mile a minute, desperately trying to come up with an effective plan, but his body had already moved a few steps ahead. Goldie realised that he was making his move a split second after he did, and dove across her king size four poster, intent on making her escape through the very door he’d broken his way through. But Scrooge was faster than her, and he caught her by the ankle, dragging her bodily across the mattress and pinning her down.

Goldie yelped, and struggled to get free, but he had her by the wrists and he was so much stronger than her. The golden nugget bounced across the mattress, and they both watched it go. Only then did Scrooge realise the position they had ended up in.

Goldie, however, was very familiar with such a position. She rolled her hips up into his and grinned as his eyes flew wide.

‘Come on, tough guy,’ she hissed through gritted teeth. ‘Show me what you’re made of, hmm?’

‘I... what...’ Scrooge panicked suddenly. This wasn’t the way he had intended it to go. He didn’t know what he intended, exactly, but it hadn’t been this. He wanted his gold back. He wanted to teach her a lesson. But short of tossing her over his shoulder and marching her back to his claim, he was clean out of ideas.

Goldie saw her chance, and took it. A swift knee to the optimum spot between his legs sent him staggering back, wheezing and groaning loudly. Goldie grabbed the nugget and snatched up a satchel from her dresser.

Scrooge recovered quickly, and scrambled to his feet but this time, she was too fast for him.

‘You really think I’d go to all this trouble for one measly nugget of gold?’ She scoffed, holding the thing aloft. ‘Here, you can keep it!’ She hurled it at him, with perfect aim. Scrooge doubled over again, winded by a gold nugget to the gut, and Goldie threw open the sash window and climbed over the threshold, her satchel over one shoulder. In that moment, Scrooge’s brain finally caught up with the events of the day and his hand went to his inside pocket, feeling desperately for the yellowing parchment that he now realised had been gone all along.

‘Thanks for the map, Scroogey,’ Goldie grinned, the parchment in question suddenly in her hand. She slipped it into her bodice, hiding it snugly between her breasts. ‘Come and get it, if you think you’re duck enough.’

Scrooge roared and leapt after her, but Goldie was already out of the window. She swung down on a rope of tied sheets that she must have hung their before he even made it back to Dawson. The window slammed behind her, and Scrooge had to whip his hands away just in time to avoid breaking every one of his fingers. By the time he wrestled the thing open again and leaned out, the street was empty.

Goldie was gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....and another illustration from the wonderful @koizumi-marichan who dazzles me daily with her ridiculous talents!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A proper length chapter AT LAST! Thank you for putting up with these short chapters. 
> 
> After the last chapter, Mari drew a truly GORGEOUS new piece in addition to the one I posted. I loved it so much, I didn’t want to just post it as an extra image to the last chapter and so! We’re starting with it here. Cast your mind back and allow us to set the scene with these two unlikely lovebirds. And enjoy! 
> 
> (Art by @Koizumi-Marichan)

 

 

_‘Come and get it, if you think you’re duck enough.’_

Her words echoed in Scrooge’s mind as he trudged through the town, following the trail of delicate footsteps that seemed to have appeared with more haste than he could ever have imagined.

_‘Come on, tough guy. Show me what you’re made of, hmm?’_

He shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold. Even the memory of her voice sent a thrill through him, and made his insides all twist up. It was ridiculous, he reasoned. She had stolen from him. Swindled him. She sought to destroy everything he’d worked for! So why couldn’t he get the sight of her lithe body, writhing beneath him atop the satin sheets of her grand four poster bed, out of his mind?

Scrooge shook his head and tried to push all such thoughts out of his mind as he headed straight for the mountains, between which the Mooseneck Glacier ran. If she had the map, and even half a clue as to what it meant, that’s where she would be heading too. 

Stupid, foolish woman! What did she think she was playing at? She had no idea what dangers lurked out in the caverns that lined White Agony Valley. Scrooge had only just survived them himself, and now this woman was going to get herself killed, and lose him his only chance at finding the Golden Lagoon in the process. 

It was the thought of gold that spurred him onwards. Liquid gold, a whole mountain of it, and absolutely not the woman who had gone after it. 

Absolutely not. 

 

 

He followed the trail out of Dawson, up through the mountains, toward the glacier. He still hadn’t caught sight of her yet, and he would never admit it but he was impressed. It had taken him a considerable time to scale this same terrain, and yet she seemed to be having no trouble. And he was pretty sure she was still wearing heels. 

At last, he spotted something. A tell-tale flash of gold against the whiteness of the snowfall and all encompassing darkness of night. Her hair had come loose in the wind, and those few strands of spun gilder were enough to catch his eye. 

‘Oi! Ye hardhearted harlot!’ He yelled, before he could stop himself. Goldie flinched where she stood up on the ridge of the glacier by the mouth of the tunnel he’d dug himself, and spun around, a nonchalant smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

‘Oh, horsefeathers. You caught me, huh?’

‘Jes’ what the devil d’ye think you’re playing at?’ Scrooge seethed, his rich Scottish brogue heightening along with his temper. Up on the rocks, Goldie grinned. 

‘So...’ she drawled, regarding him appraisingly and gesturing all around. ‘You got through the glacier.’ 

Scrooge immediately stiffened. 

‘What do you know of it?’ He asked, gruffly.

‘Plenty.’ Goldie rolled her eyes and tapped the map against her hip. ‘How did you do it?’

Scrooge scoffed. ‘You think I’m going to tell you the path to my claim? So you can return one nugget and go in and steal all the rest?’

Now it was Goldie’s turned to laugh. ‘Stupid Sourdough,’ she chuckled, shaking her head. ‘You think that nugget’s the biggest payload in that valley?’ 

And there it was. Hanging there in the night, with Dawson behind them and a whole other adventure ahead. Scrooge set his stance, and narrowed his eyes. 

‘What do you know?’ He growled. 

‘More than you, clearly.’ Goldie huffed. She went to turn on her heel and stalk into the caves, but Scrooge was on her before she had even tucked the map away. He sprung up the hillside and launched himself at her, catching the skirts of her dress and tumbling them both to the ground where they both scrambled for purchase lest they end up falling into the ravine below. 

‘Hey! Paws off, you dirty, penniless prospector!’ Goldie screeched, licking and scratching and fighting him off with all she had. Scrooge was unrelenting, he grabbed at her feathers and tore at her dress in his quest for the map, and if she wasn’t so caught off guard she might have enjoyed it. 

They struggled, grunting and gasping and growling, alive with fighting spirit and dancing back and forth across the mouth of the cave, until at last Goldie managed to get one good kick in and sent Scrooge skidding across the dirt. 

‘Aha!’ She grinned, victoriously, scrambling to her feet and smoothing out her tattered dress. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed. Scrooge forced himself not to notice. 

‘Aha! And now what?’ Scrooge said, glaring. ‘You think you can just march on through the glacier, just because you’ve managed to get your mits on my map? If it was so easy, don’t you think more folk would have done it? There’s a monster in there, and-‘

Goldie rolled her eyes as she interjected. ‘A monster! Oh please. No glacier monster could be as bad as the saloon full of rowdy sourdoughs I handle every Saturday night.’ 

Scrooge clenched his teeth and shook his fists at the sky. The woman was infuriating! She had an answer for everything. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug smirk off of her scheming mug. 

Goldie must have sensed he was reaching her limit, because the very next moment she set her expression to something rather more demure. It was laughable, considering he’d seen her true colours several times already that evening. 

‘Come on now, Scrooge. Is all this fighting really worth it?’ She purred. The sound sent tingles from his ears all the way to his feet, and everywhere in between. ‘It would be so much more fun if we did it together.’

‘You mean... work together?’ Scrooge repeated, dumbly. He hadn’t been expecting that. 

‘Well, why not?’ Goldie shrugged. ‘Two pairs of hands have got to be better than one, you said it yourself it’s a perilous journey.’

He glared. ‘Aye, it is. Which is why I cannae be concerning meself with the welfare of a young lass on the way!’

Goldie raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. And,’ she added, ‘I’ll wager I’m not that much younger than you.’ 

Scrooge’s face flushed and he cursed his body for betraying him so. ‘Aye, but you _are_ a  lass,’ he continued to protest. 

‘Oh, you noticed that did you?’ Goldie asked, innocently. Then, not so innocently, her gaze trailed down his wiry body and back up to his wide eyes. ‘Good,’ she added, in a voice that made Scrooge’s mouth go dry. 

He choked on air. ‘You know what I mean. Ye cannae expect me to take you on an adventure without an escort. It’s not right! It’s not proper.’ 

‘Oh Scroogey, nothing about me is proper. I thought you might have learned that by now. Anyway, you’re not taking me on an adventure. I’ve got the map. I’m going on an adventure, and you’re chasing me.’ 

‘You’ve got the... wait - what?’ No sooner had Scrooge realised what was happening, then she had made her escape, tearing off into the caves with the map in hand. ‘Oi!’ He cried out, and immediately gave chase. 

 

 

Goldie ran fast. She’d learned how to make a quick getaway at a very young age, knew how to disappear into the shadows and escape a hiding. Scrooge might be strong, but he hadn’t done much running for his life so far, and she could tell.

The caves were dark, and narrow and treacherous. Goldie took turns at random, trying her best to throw him off her feathered tail, but while he couldn’t seem to catch up with her, he at least seemed to be able to keep her in his sights. Goldie wouldn’t admit it, but the thought of it gave her a thrill, and despite it all she took the time to ensure the sway of her hips and the rustle of her skirts as she went. 

Eventually, the caverns began to open up. The walls began to glisten and suddenly Goldie turned a corner and stopped in her tracks. 

The rainbow caves.

It was beautiful. She’d on heard stories... but this was beyond words. All colours of the spectrum dazzled around her, and even though she could hear the flat footed sounds of Scrooge catching up with her, she found she couldn’t bring herself to run while there was all this to look at. 

Scrooge saw them too, but of course he was already familiar with their multi-coloured wonderment. He’d passed through plenty of times before now, and that’s why he knew that despite the beauty, this was no place to linger. 

‘Goldie!’ He hissed, gaining on her quickly. ‘We can’t stop here - we’ll attract the attention of the...’

His words faded to nothing as the caves around them shuddered and shook, and dust and dirt began to fall from the ceiling as heavy, thunderous footsteps echoed somewhere in the darkness.

It was coming towards them. And quickly. 

‘What the hell is that?’ Goldie asked sharply, looking to Scrooge. He caught the fear in her eyes, though she masked it quickly. 

‘I told ye, the glacier monster!’ He groaned, shaking his head and snatching up her hand in his. ‘Come on, we have to move!’ 

If Goldie objected to being dragged from her chosen path and down a darker one, she didn’t vocalise it. The moment the creature roared, she knew it was real. Very, very real. 

Without the map, Scrooge was disoriented. He tried his best to remember the way out, but they were all turned about and everywhere he tried seemed to bring them closer to the monster. 

‘Curse me kilts,’ he breathed, putting his arm out to stop Goldie as she very nearly darted straight into its path. Behind them, rocks dislodged and crumbled, and they were quickly trapped. 

Their eyes met, wide and fearful, and yet full of fire despite the hopelessness of their situation.

The creature rose up before them with a roar, rearing on it’s hind legs that were wide as the trunks of the most ancient of trees. It’s tusks gleamed in the darkness, scraping along the ice cavern walls and sending shards as sharp as daggers plummeting to the ground. Scrooge grabbed Goldie’s arm and tugged her out of the way of the shower of icicles. Goldie was unfazed. 

With a movement as fast as lightning, she wrenched up her petticoats to reveal a garter high on her thigh, where a small but deadly pistol resided. She whipped the weapon out and aimed it at the creature, cocking it without hesitation. 

Scrooge, whose brain had momentarily lost the ability to function at the point that Goldie hiked up her skirts, suddenly jolted back to reality. 

‘Don’t be an idiot!’ He chided, covering her hand with his and angling her weapon down. ‘You shoot it, and it’ll bring the whole cavern down around us! We’ll be buried alive if we aren’t eaten first!’ 

‘Well, what do you propose?’ Goldie retorted, wildly. Scrooge paused, looked all around them, and quickly devised his plan.

‘Between the legs! Come on!’ He declared, marching forward. 

‘I bet you say that to all the girls,’ Goldie muttered, but she sheathed her weapon anyway and followed his path.

The mammoth roared again, stomping its feet like a bull getting ready to charge, and just when they crept close enough to make their escape, it made its move. 

‘Goldie - look out!’ Scrooge cried, as the monster swung its night tusks toward them, intent on sweeping them from its path. Goldie ducked out of the way just in time, launching herself into an icy puddle leaving her drenched, but otherwise intact. 

‘This was my best dress, you big galoot!’ She raged, ringing out the silk as best she could. It was ruined, of course.

‘Don’t call it names lass, you’ll anger it even more!’ Scrooge warned.

‘I wasn’t talking to the mammoth.’ Goldie grumbled. She whipped out her pistol again, and fired up in the air, sending the monster rearing. It was a distraction, if anything, and it gave them a split second to make a break for it. 

Scrooge hurried forward first, with Goldie close behind. They ducked under the monster and headed for the blinking shaft of light at the far end of the cavern. But Goldie’s gunshots had not been easily forgotten, and as the beast continued to tear up the caves it sent a might rockfall crumbling in its wake. 

‘Scrooge!’ Goldie’s voice suddenly cried out, strangled and panicked - and unlike anything he’d heard from her yet. He turned on his heel to see her lingering behind. 

‘Goldie, we have to get out of here. Come on!’

‘I... cant!’ She hissed, and he realised her predicament. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to follow, but she couldn’t. ‘Damnit Scrooge, help me! My stupid hair is caught!’ 

Goldie struggled to get free of the fallen rocks, tearing at her trapped ponytail to no avail. Tears stung her eyes as some strands tore out, but not enough. 

Scrooge had frozen in the mouth of the cave, painfully aware of the approaching rumble of the Mammoth coming back for more. The ground shook and he hesitated, he didn’t really know why, it wasn’t that he was afraid of the Mammoth... it was almost as if he knew something even more terrible would happen if he set her free. 

‘What the hell are you waiting for, help me get out!’ Goldie yelled, and her irritated anguish finally kicked him into action. He ran to her side, unsheathing his knife, and reaching behind her to cut her hair free. As he did so, his arms circled her shoulders and he could feel her panting breath on his face as he worked. If she noticed the redness rising in his cheeks, he hoped she would account it to their earlier exertions. Either way, she didn’t comment. 

At last, he managed to cut her free, and she stumbled forward into his arms. For a moment, they just stood together, breathing heavily. Then Goldie pulled back slightly to look deep into his eyes.

‘Thanks,’ she said, breathlessly, her now jagged short hair falling haphazardly around her face. Scrooge was momentarily rendered speechless by the wild, unbridled beauty before him. He swallowed heavily, and nodded, unable to really do anything else. 

Goldie’s gaze softened, and her eyelids dropped just a little. Scrooge suddenly felt like she was staring all the way into his soul. His heart stopped, and he realised she was getting closer. She was leaning in. He realised a moment too late that he was too. His hands rose of their own accord, to rest on her hips as her own brushed against his chest. Her eyes closed and he knew what was about to happen, even if he didn’t know how or why or what on Earth he was supposed to do when it did. He found he didn’t really care all that much. He could feel the softness of her feathers through the fabric of her skirts. 

The Mammoth roared, and the cave trembled, rocks falling all around them. 

They jumped apart, and their attention turned to the tunnel ahead, and the thundering footsteps that lumbered toward them. 

‘Time to go,’ Goldie said, taking Scrooge’s hand and dragging him in her wake. Together they ran back to the mouth of the cave, out into the ice cold daylight. Behind them, the caves finally succumbed and crumbled in their wake, keeping them safe from the mammoth, and marooning them at the same time. 

‘Wait, where are we?’ Goldie frowned, looking around for the landmarks she had expected to find. They ought to be able to see the rooftops of Dawson in the distance, the winding railroad up along the hills, instead, she saw nothing but snow and rock and trees, a crisp, cold sunrise beginning on the horizon. It was beautiful, but it was unfamiliar. 

‘We’re on the other side of the mountain,’ Scrooge told her. 

Goldie’s eyes grew wide as she took it all in. It was untouched, unspoiled. A wild, rolling landscape and they were the only two people to have laid eyes on it. 

‘White Agony Valley,’ she breathed, lost for words beyond that. 

Scrooge nodded. She wasn’t the only one caught off guard. He stared at her, unable to help himself, as the wind whipped at her yellow hair and brought the briefest sting of tears to her eyes. Her emerald eyes shone as she stared at the world around them and he found he couldn’t tear his own dark gaze away. Until of course, their eyes met. And Scrooge quickly looked away, coughing roughly as though to clear his throat and put a firm end to such nonsense. 

‘Alright, well come on then,’ he grumbled, gruffly. ‘We’re not getting back through there any time soon. Follow me, and don’t shoot anything else.’ 

He stalked off down the hillside, leaving a stunned Goldie behind. She stared after him for a moment, weighing up her options. And in the end, she settled in throwing caution to the wind.

She followed him down into White Agony Valley.


	6. Chapter 6

‘You really do have a claim here!’ Goldie remarked, as Scrooge led her down the hillside toward the Creek in the distance. It was a good few miles away, and would take several hours to get there on foot by Goldie’s reckoning. Maybe longer.

‘Of course I do! What did you think? That I was just living out in the middle of nowhere for nothing?’ Scrooge scoffed. 

‘I thought you were after...’ Goldie caught herself before she said too much. ‘Never mind.’

But Scrooge wasn’t fooled. He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. ‘Eh - what? What did you think I was after?’

‘Nothing.’ Goldie insisted, with her hands on her hips. ‘Gold! And you are. So I was right.’

Scrooge’s glare narrowed, and he took a chance. ‘You thought I was after the Golden Lagoon.’ He said, pointedly. 

‘The what?’ Goldie was the picture of calculated innocence. 

‘Don’t play coy with me lass. You heard me. What do you know about the Golden Lagoon?’ Scrooge growled, dangerously. 

‘Nothing.’ Goldie snapped back, petulantly. ‘Why, what do _you_ know about it?’

They faced off against each other, teeth bared in matching levels of ferocity. Her eyes flashed when she was angry, Scrooge noted, like flames of gold, kindling in her emerald irises. He liked it, he realised, with a jolt. He’d never met a woman like her before. And he wanted to watch that fire roar. 

Goldie didn’t miss the way his pupils dilated just slightly as he glared at her. So, he liked what he saw huh? Well, of course he did. She’d been counting on it. But there was something more in there, something else. He wasn’t undressing her with his eyes, not yet, and that was unnerving. His black eyes seemed to bore into her soul, and render her more naked than she’d ever been. 

This duck was like no one she’d ever met. He was dangerous. And damnit, she never could run away from danger. 

‘Come on, it’ll take the better part of a day to make it to the Creek where my cabin is. We ought to move so we make it there before dark.’ 

‘Your cabin? We ought to get back to _Dawson_ before dark. If we’re to get past that monster we’re gonna need more fire power than we have. Maybe some dynamite too.’ Goldie mused, playing it out in her head. She knew just where to get the best deal. 

But Scrooge just shook his head. 

‘We’re not getting back to Dawson any time soon,’ he said. ‘I’ve mapped every once of this land, the only way back is the way we came and since _someone_ shot off their pistol and caused a cave in, that way’s gone. It’ll be at least spring before the glacier thaws enough for us to get back through to the caves.’

‘Spring?!’ Goldie spluttered. ‘What am I supposed to do until then?!’

‘Well... you could try putting in an honest day’s work for once. I’d say it would’nae kill ye, but it might.’ Scrooge grumbled. 

Goldie glared. 

‘You have no idea, the things I’ve done to get here.’ She said, her voice low and dangerous. ‘I was in Dawson long before you. The gold in that mountain is mine.’

‘Bah, you cannae put a claim on legendary treasure! Just because you know it’s there, doesn’t make it yours.’ Scrooge objected.

‘Back atcha, Argonaut.’ Goldie threw back. 

‘Aye, well.’ Scrooge sighed, his hand moving to scratch the back of his head. His tufty feathers stuck up at all angles, and Goldie refused to regard it as cute. ‘Neither one of us are getting to it any time soon. Not after that cave in.’

Goldie was silent for a moment. Thoughts and emotions churned within her, threatening to break through her dangerously calm exterior. What would become of the Blackjack? Had she hidden away all of her treasures? Was it secure enough? What would she return to? Would she return at all? Was the Golden Lagoon and this stupid young duck, who had done nothing but turn her world upside down since she had first encountered him, worth the loss of everything she’d worked for since she had come to the Americas? She finally schooled her internal struggle and turned her attention back to said duck. He was watching her with an almost fearful expression, and she realised she must have been quiet for some time. 

She snapped back to wakefulness and Scrooge jumped. It made her grin easier than she’d have liked. 

‘Well, come on then,’ she remarked, as though he was the reason they’d lingered. ‘Show me this claim of yours, and let’s see what all the fuss is about.’ 

  


They travelled in relative silence for the first few hours. Scrooge set the pace, figuring he’d have to relent and slow down, but Goldie, to her credit, kept up with him and at times even spurned him on, such was her impatience. 

The sun was high in the sky when Goldie finally made conversation. 

‘What made you come out here, anyway?’ She asked, as though they hadn’t been silent for miles. 

Scrooge balked a little, and glanced at her over his shoulder. Her expression was clear, and the question was genuine, as much as he could tell. 

‘Gold.’ He said, simply. Goldie laughed, and he felt that familiar flutter in his stomach at the sound. 

‘No shit, Sherlock. But you already found the nugget, that oughta fetch a pretty penny. Why do you need to keep going?’ Why do you need to get your hands on a legendary treasure? Was the undertone that went unsaid. 

‘It’s not enough,’ Scrooge said gruffly. He shifted awkwardly and glanced at her again, weighing up how much might be too much to tell her. ‘I need to send money home to Glasgow,’ he said, finally. ‘My family are depending on me.’ 

‘Huh. Funny, I didn’t have you pegged as a family man.’ Goldie remarked. Scrooge bristled at that. 

‘I’ve been travelling the world since in was a lad of thirteen.’ He said. ‘I’ve been hunting for my fortune, and when I find it I’m going to save my family’s ancestral home.’ 

‘Oho, the Argonaut’s got a Castle, has he?’ Goldie chuckled. 

‘No more than a ruin,’ Scrooge admitted. ‘It’s... it’s a long story.’ 

‘I think we’ve got time.’ Goldie rolled her eyes, and gestured vaguely at the wide expanse of their surroundings. 

Scrooge huffed, and Goldie could practically see the moment he buttoned up. ‘My family is penniless and I’m going to provide for them. A mere gold nugget is not enough, not for the life they deserve. I wouldn’t expect you to understand such things.’ 

Goldie was quiet for a moment. Scrooge almost stopped and looked over his shoulder to check she was still following him, but then her words came like a whisper on the wind. 

‘No, no I don’t suppose you would.’ 

Suddenly Scrooge found he didn’t want to turn around. There was a sadness in her tone that had hadn’t expected. He didn’t want to see the face that went with it... he didn’t know what he would do. 

‘What brought you here? To Dawson?’ He carried on, as though the last few moments hadn’t happened. ‘You’re not a native, that’s for sure.’

‘What gave me away?’ Goldie asked wryly, a smirk back in her voice. Scrooge relaxed.

‘Your accent.’ 

‘I don’t have an accent!’ Goldie objected, scandalised. 

‘No, you don’t. Which means you’re either from here, and I know you’re not, or you’re doing a very good job of pretending you are.’

Goldie chuckled. ‘You know, for a dummy, you really are too smart for your own good.’ 

‘And you’re very good at not answering questions.’ Scrooge grumbled back, more good-naturedly than he’d expected. 

Goldie grinned. They continued on, and it was perhaps another hour before Goldie finally spoke again. 

‘Dublin,’ she said, and it was so out of the blue that Scrooge almost missed it. 

‘What?’

‘I came here from Dublin. A long time ago now... but, that’s where I’m from.’ 

‘I’ve never been to Ireland,’ Scrooge commented. ‘Not in all my travels. It would be nice to see it, one day.’

Goldie nodded, a strange look on her face. ‘Well, if you do you can send me a postcard. But I certainly never plan to go back.’ 

 

At last, they arrived at White Agony Creek. It was late in the afternoon, and the winter sun was beginning to set on them already. 

Scrooge headed straight into the cabin to make them some coffee - neither of them had been to sleep, not of their own volition at least, he thought with a gripe, for more than a day. And even so, he didn’t want to face the prospect of going to bed for a good few hours yet. So he made coffee.

Goldie perched on the edge of the little wooden chair by his table for one, as he poured her a cup of coffee so thick you could cut right through it with a knife. 

‘Thanks,’ she deadpanned, holding the cup tightly and unable to manage a sip. Scrooge ignored her and drank his own tar-like coffee straight from the pot, since he’d given her the only cup. Despite the ridiculous picture he made, and the stomach turning stench emanating from her own beverage, Goldie was just a little touched by the gesture. 

He mumbled something about needing firewood, and then bustled his way out of the door, leaving her alone with her undrinkable beverage. 

Scrooge stepped outside the cabin and leaned heavily against the door, taking a moment to breathe the ice cold hair and cool the blood that raced through his veins. 

A fine mess this was. Just a day ago he’d been a man on top of the world; he’d found his gold nugget, filed his claim, and he was on his way to chipping through and finding the legendary Golden Lagoon of White Agony Plains. He still had all those things, he supposed, only now he had Goldie too. And he had no idea what to do with her. 

He busied himself by stalking off into the woods to gather up logs from fallen trees and brought them back ready to chop them up for firewood.

When he returned, he was met by quite the sight. Goldie had left the cabin and had filled a basin with creek water, and Scrooge found her hunched over it, scrubbing at something ferociously. When she stood, she brought the sodden fabric with her. It was her dress, he realised. The sequins and silk were dark and dripping, and as she wrung out the water he got a clearer look at what she was now wearing. 

Scrooge dropped the firewood. 

Sand coloured pants, the kind he’d seen plenty of prospectors wear, and dark red braces over a cream coloured shirt that tucked into the pants and billowed flatteringly in just the right places. 

‘You changed your outfit,’ Scrooge said, dumbly stating the obvious. He was staring, he couldn’t help it. Goldie looked up, finally noticing his presence. 

‘Oh, you’d have preferred me to stay in my torn up ballgown the whole time, so you could cop a glance whenever you feel like it?’ Goldie quirked an eyebrow. ‘Of course you would. You men are all the same.’ 

Scrooge flushed bright red. ‘I didnae mean that!’ He groused. ‘I just didn’t know you had other clothes with ye. I think it’s... I mean you look... it’s very nice. Practical.’

‘Practical.’ Goldie repeated, testing the word on her tongue. When she said it, it sounded like an insult, but coming from Scrooge it felt almost like he was calling her beautiful.

As she turned to hang out her wet things, Scrooge couldn’t help but watch. He didn’t mean to stare, but he just couldn’t look away. He’d never known a woman like her. His sister Hortense had a fire within her that could take down armies, but the thought of Hortense donning a pair of trousers... well it was almost laughable. Not that he would ever dare laugh at her. 

A sudden breeze whipped through the valley and caught the silk undergarment Goldie had in her hand. It danced in the wind and slipped from her grasp, fluttering to the ground. Scrooge stood transfixed as the same gust of wind caught the billowing fabric of her shirt, painting a sudden fleeting picture of the curves that lay beneath. His mouth felt suddenly very dry. 

When Goldie bent down to snatch up the fallen garment, Scrooge gasped. Her pants... well, like most ducks’ trousers they had a slip at the back for the tail. But most trousers were worn by men. As Goldie bent down, her ample behind presented to him, though he didn’t think she intended it as such in that moment, her tail feathers bristled and all the blood in his body rushed downwards. 

Oh, he was in trouble. 

Scrooge shook himself back to waking reality before she straightened up again, picked up the firewood and turned on his heel to march away, before his body betrayed him any further. 

Goldie watched him go with a smirk. She really hadn’t intended to wind him up, but it turned out it didn’t take much. And the _scandal_ of seeing her tail feathers, well, it must have all been too much for him, she chuckled. It tickled her how men were such prudes about such things, when they spent most of their time wandering around pantless with their tails proudly displayed. The double standard made her eyes roll to the back of her head. 

She finished hanging out her wet clothes and then went back into the cabin, where she could see him through the window. She’d managed to dilute the coffee enough for it to be drinkable, and so poured herself another cup and settled herself against the counter, watching Scrooge chop his firewood with unbridled appreciation. Thankfully he was so caught up in the activity he didn’t notice her, and so she was free to act the voyeur.

He picked up a heavy log dropped it on the thick tree stump. Goldie thought perhaps the cabin in which she stood may once have been the rest of that tree. Scrooge pushed up his sleeves roughly, and Goldie felt the feathers on the back of her neck bristle at the sight of his forearms. He was wiry, but incredibly strong. She wondered briefly what the rest of him looked like under all that rough hewn cotton and calico. 

Scrooge lifted the axe high over his head, and grunted as it swung down, paring the log in two with ease. Goldie grinned, and leaned further over the sideboard to get a better view. 

 

Later, once Scrooge had chopped all the firewood he could find without bringing down the forest, he made up a fire and by the time the sun had properly set, it had crackled and roared up into a decent flame, enough so he could position a couple of pans above it. 

‘And he cooks, too,’ Goldie remarked, casting an appraising eye over the set up. She was joking, but still, she was a little impressed. Scrooge glanced at her, his expression uneasy. 

‘It’s only tinned beans, and a bit of salted meat from town,’ he confessed. ‘And not much of it either, since there’s two of us now. I barely had enough to last until Spring when it was just me.’ 

Goldie accepted the tin plate without a snide comment, considering he’d just made it quite clear he was sharing the last of his rations. 

‘It’s alright, once this runs out we can always hunt,’ she reasoned, and gestured behind them. ‘Look where we are! This Valley is unspoiled. The animals here are stupid, they won’t have seen a trap before. It’ll be easy.’ 

Scrooge looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable at the prospect and Goldie was surprised. She’d not thought a hardy prospector like him would be queasy at the thought of skimming a rabbit or two. 

‘The animals of this valley and I have an understanding. I don’t hunt them... and they don’t hunt me.’ Scrooge huffed. Goldie rolled her eyes. 

‘Oh, that’s a lovely sentiment. I can scratch it onto a marker for you when you die of starvation if you like.’ 

Scrooge huffed and made a comment about how long she’d last once the animals of the valley decided she was fair game. She reminded him that she was armed and he was not, so he was inevitably the more likely target. He scoffed and she laughed, and on and on it went.

Their bickering continued well after the sun went down, long after the food was gone and the fire had died down into embers. Eventually, it stopped giving off any heat at all, and that’s when Goldie started to shiver. 

Scrooge offered her his coat, and she let him drape it around her shoulders, but there was no more delaying the inevitable. They’d been up for almost two days, and it was time to go to sleep. Goldie stood first, and offered her hand to tug him up onto his feet. He took it, and for a moment when he stood their hands remained clasped between them, a strangely warm heat in the heart of the frozen Klondike, until Scrooge snatched his hand away and they were both cold once more. 

 

‘I’ll give you the master suite,’ Scrooge joked awkwardly, gesturing as they entered the cabin. There in the corner of the room was one single, wood framed bed. It didn’t look to have much resembling a mattress on it, but it had plenty of blankets and a pillow at least. Goldie tried not to wonder what it might be stuffed with. 

‘Oh? And where will you sleep? There’s only one bed after all...’ she trailed off, the barest hint of suggestion hanging in the air. 

‘I’ll sleep in the Wood Bin,’ Scrooge said quickly, looking down at his feet. You can have the bed.’

Goldie was surprised. ‘You mean you don’t want... huh,’ she paused as Scrooge looked at her, the picture of innocent confusion. 

‘Want what?’ He asked. 

Goldie raised an eyebrow, then looked pointedly at the single bed in the room. Scrooge’s eyes flew wide and his face coloured bright red.

‘What? No! I... wh... donnae be mad, lass.’

Goldie frowned, unsure of exactly how to take such a vehement response. ‘Well I gotta say, I’m a little offended.’ She admitted eventually. 

‘Offended?’ Scrooge repeated. That was the last thing he expected her to say. 

‘Well, I stole from you. I knocked you out. And then I stole from you _again_. You saved me from a... from whatever that was. I owe you, more than a few times over. I’m a little surprised you don’t want to cash that debt in, Sourdough.’ Goldie explained matter of factly, with a shrug. 

Scrooge frowned. ‘You’re saying you _wanted_ me to...’

‘I’m saying I _expected_ you to.’ Goldie corrected, a little harshly.

Scrooge was quiet again, and Goldie could practically hear the cogs turning in his wild little brain, trying desperately to read the situation despite it being in a language he hadn’t learnt yet. 

‘So, you _don’t_ want...’ he gestured awkwardly to the bed again. She couldn’t want that, not with him. She didn’t like him. She’d stolen from him! She was angry that she was stuck here with him. And she was a woman of the world, she knew about... that stuff. She couldn’t want it with him, he didn’t know anything. He didn’t know how it all worked.

‘What I want doesn’t often feature in these things.’ Goldie admitted, her voice sounding a little tight. Scrooge looked at her again, only this time she was the one not meeting his eye. He saw something then, in the stiffness of her shoulders, in the tension of her jaw. 

‘Well... that’s not right.’ It was all he could think to say. 

Goldie looked at him, at his kind eyes and open expression, with none of the rage and fire she’d come to know from him so far, and she couldn’t help it when the corners of her mouth quirked up in a small smile. ‘You really are an odd duck, aren’t you?’

Scrooge didn’t much know what to say to that. Goldie chuckled and shook her head, and before he knew it her soft, warm hand was on his forearm and she was pressing a light kiss to his cheek. He felt his face flush all the way to his beak. 

‘Goodnight Scrooge,’ she said, quietly. ‘Thanks for the bed.’ 

He nodded sharply, still somewhat dazed, and she forced herself not to laugh at him as he staggered out of the room toward his Wood Bin without another word. 

  
Once she was certain the door was closed and she was really alone, Goldie turned to be bed where Scrooge had placed her neatly folded clothes after they had dried. 

Her dress was in tatters, but it was salvageable. She was no stranger to fixing torn garments. But she would have no reason to any time soon, and so she picked up the mass of sequins and silk and laid it carefully on the chest at the foot of Scrooge’s bed, to keep it out of the way. 

The slip she’d been wearing under the dress was in a much better state. It was torn up the hem on one side but otherwise intact, and seeing as all Goldie intended to do was sleep in it, she figured it would do well enough. With one more glance over her shoulder in the direction of the Wood Bin, she began to undress. 

It was cold in the Valley. Despite the meagre warmth the cabin gave, the moment her arms slipped out of the fabric of her shirt she began to shiver. Goldie hurriedly shimmied out of the rest of it, and her trousers too, and tugged the silk slip over her head. The thin fabric did little to fight the cold, and only when she climbed into the hard wooden cot and pulled the blankets up to her chin did she finally begin to warm up. She looked around at the sparse room, realising how quickly it had become hers. Her clothes folded on the trunk, her holster hooked on the bed post, her satchel hanging by the door, and not a hint of Scrooge to be found save for the pile of tools by the door and a faint scent of burnt coffee. He’d taken his few possessions - his bedroll and his strong box - off into the Wood Bin and this all traces of Scrooge McDuck had gone with him. 

Goldie tried very hard not to be disappointed by the fact. 

She was winning. As she sat up in bed, the blankets bunched at her chest, feeling oddly small in the draughty cabin, she reminded herself of this. 

Sure, she was stuck here for a while, but she’d gotten through the glacier, she’d gotten as far as the rainbow caves! And above all, she knew where Scrooge was keeping the map. Why else would he guard that strongbox with everything he had? His precious Goose Egg nugget was rattling around in there for sure, and the map too. She’d caught him mooning over it earlier, staring into the box when he thought she wasn’t looking, his eyes gleaming and a dopey smile on his face, the stupid old Sourdough. 

It wouldn’t take much to throw him off his game. She’d made dozens of men fall in love with her in her years in Dawson, and she’d had to work a heck of a lot harder with all of them. This duck she simply had to throw him a smile or a kiss on the cheek and his knees buckled. He was a virgin, that was obvious, and she just needed to wait for the opportune moment to make her play. When the winter thawed, and the ice melted, and the glacier was penetrable again. Then all it would take would be kind words and a soft smile, a brush of feathers and a whisper of a kiss, and then she would have him.

And afterwards, when he was sated and slumbering, she’d slip out of bed and steal away to the Wood Bin to find the map, and she’d be gone before he even stirred. She’d take it, and the nugget, and maybe his deed too. It would be easy. And then she’d away to the glacier and find the Golden Lagoon. She’d be rich beyond Dawson, beyond her wildest dreams. She’d never have to work for anything ever again. 

And Scrooge would be left with... nothing. 

For some reason, in the fading moonlight of the cabin in the middle of the Klondike, that was the thought that gave Goldie pause. 

Scrooge, who came from nothing. Scrooge, who had come so far. Scrooge, who had been out in the world, all on his own, working for everything she wanted to claim as her own, since he was just a boy of thirteen. 

Her gaze lingered on the door, and the flickering firelight beyond it. He was probably still awake on the other side, staring at his map or his deed or his precious nugget. 

Goldie would not let herself think about him any more tonight. She shook her head firmly, and her newly short hair tickled her face as she did so. How she hated it. Her long hair was her trademark - one of them anyway. Now it was short, and spiky, and she hated it. She hadn’t had short hair since... well, since she’d had to. And she never wanted to again. 

Pushing those unwelcome memories away, Goldie shimmied down the bed and laid down, shifting uncomfortably on the hard wooden surface. It wouldn’t do to linger on such thoughts, she told herself. She’d dream of gold instead. 

In his Wood Bin, Scrooge was indeed still awake. He’d spent some time laying traps around the cabin, both to keep out unsavoury intruders, and to keep one unsavoury intruder in. He didn’t put it past Goldie to try and make a break for it again. That was why he had hidden the map away, and he would keep it with him whenever she was out of his sight. 

It was dark, and Scrooge would not light a candle. Candles were precious and they would have need of them before the winter’s end. But with the door open just a crack, a thin sliver of moonlight crept in, just enough to give him light to see what he was doing. 

He lay on his bedroll, refusing to let his body acknowledge the cold, and propped his head up on the splintered log he planned to use as a pillow. He stared into the contents of the strongbox he kept tucked away at the foot of his bedroll, and sighed. 

He didn’t trust her - Goldie. Of course he didn’t. But he found he’d already told her more of himself than he’d ever told anyone before, even his own family. He didn’t know why. Perhaps it was all a ploy of hers, perhaps she was even more cunning than he gave her credit for. 

She knew about the Golden Lagoon. She wanted that gold. So did he. They ought to be enemies, but somehow, through dumb luck and circumstance, they had wound up as something else. Something he didn’t think he quite understood yet. 

As a heavy cloud drifted across the moon, plunging the valley into pitch darkness, Scrooge finally shuffled down into his bedroll and waited for sleep to claim him. It took its time to do so. 

The other side of the door, Goldie stared at the ceiling, a hundred thoughts churning in her head, until she too finally succumbed to slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter art by the wonderful Koizumi-Marichan. I can't stop STARING AT IT. Goldie's short hair...! I love it :D
> 
> If you're still with us, do leave a comment and let us know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

The first morning they woke on the wrong side of the glacier, Scrooge settled into his usual routine, and Goldie followed, watching him curiously. He checked on his traps, then set about securing the cables in his shaft and hoisting up bucket load after bucket load of frozen gravel from the bedrock that lay far beneath their feet. 

Goldie watched him from a safe distance, a puzzled kind of amusement on her face. When it became apparent he really was committed to his task and he wasn’t about to make conversation with her, she strode forward into his eye line, and he grunted in begrudging acknowledgment. 

‘What are you doing?’ She asked eventually, folding her arms across her chest to stave off the chill. 

Scrooge paused, looking at her incredulously. ‘What does it look like? Mining.’

‘It looks like a lot of work.’ Goldie remarked. 

Scrooge scoffed, and shook his head. ‘Oh, you thought the gold was just going to be lying around in the dirt?’

‘I know how gold mining works, Sourdough.’ Goldie snapped. ‘I just didn’t think you were actually doing any up here.’ 

‘Well, I am.’ 

‘So I see.’ Goldie rolled her eyes. 

‘Yes, so you do.’ 

Goldie sighed, and pushed up her sleeves. She approached the complicated shaft and pulley system set up and Scrooge looked at her in surprise. 

‘What do ye want now?’ He asked, rather rudely. Scrooge’s social skills were limited at the best of times and this situation really was well outside of his usual wheelhouse. 

‘Well, show me what to do!’ She said, gesturing to the equipment between them. 

Scrooge stared. ‘You want me to... teach you to mine gold?’ 

‘Sure, what else am I going to do while we wait for the thaw? Sit in the cabin and twirl my hair? No thank you. And besides, this way the winter won’t be a total loss. Financially speaking.’

‘Oho, so you’re after my profits!’ Scrooge pounced on the threat; it was familiar. He knew how to fight this. 

‘I’m after a fair and relative share, in recognition of services rendered,’ Goldie corrected, with only the slightest hint of innuendo. She was pretty certain from the blank look on his face that Scrooge hadn’t caught the double entendre. ‘Look, you’re sure to make more headway with an extra pair of hands. Isn’t that worth something?’ 

‘I suppose...’ Scrooge grumbled, considering his options. He didn’t trust her, not one bit. But if he didn’t keep her in his sights, who knew what mischief she might get up to, especially when she got bored. No, he’d do far better keeping her on a short leash, even if it was self imposed. And he could teach her the value of a hard day’s work! Show her what really goes into a miner’s bounty. Then perhaps she might think twice about swindling the next poor soul to cross her path. And of course, the more focussed she was on mining, the less she was thinking about the Golden Lagoon, which meant the longer he had to figure out how to get his hands on it first. 

‘Well then, what do you say,’ Goldie interrupted his thoughts, holding her hand out over the shaft. Scrooge stared down at her open palm like it might be a serpent in disguise, just waiting to strike. Goldie wiggled her fingers, and her eyes danced. ‘Partners?’ She proposed. Scrooge swallowed heavily and finally, he took her hand. 

‘Temporary partners,’ he agreed, shaking it once but not letting go. ‘You follow my lead, you mine where I tell you, and all the gold we find goes to me for safe keeping. I’ll give you your fair share when the work is done.’ 

‘Fifty per cent,’ Goldie bartered. Scrooge spluttered and nearly fell over. 

‘Ten, more like.’ He countered. 

‘Thirty five.’

‘Fifteen.’ 

_ ‘Twenty _ . Or you’ll force me to dishonesty.’ Goldie warned. Scrooge believed her, and so he nodded. 

‘Alright. Twenty.’ He agreed, and they shook again. Their clasped hands broke apart, and Scrooge felt the absence of contact keenly, like a void had opened up suddenly with the loss of her hand in his. He shook it off as best he could and turned his attention to demonstrating the various lines and their uses while Goldie watched and listened intently. Her own hand tingled too, and she placed both firmly on her hips, pushing the feeling away and turning all her focus back to the gold. 

  
  
  


The winter dragged on long, and hard. As the temperature dropped, Scrooge only became more determined and Goldie became more restless. She thought of her ballroom, her Blackjack, and all the sourdoughs and showgirls that filled it, struggling through the winter without her there to rally them. If it was even still standing... without her there to run a tight ship it could well have gone up in smoke by now. 

She comforted herself with the thought of the golden lagoon, hidden somewhere within the caves of the mountain that loomed over White Agony Plains. With the spring would come the thaw, and if they were lucky, the glacier would shift enough to let them back inside the tunnels where the legendary treasure lay. 

No - not them. Not they.  _ Her _ . Goldie found herself catching herself in such thoughts more often than not. Working with Scrooge, even if they spent more than half of their time arguing... well, they were a pretty effective team. They’d brought up plenty of gold between them; nothing so impressive as the goose egg nugget he kept hidden in his treasure box, but a decent load all the same. As the weeks dragged on, she settled into the partnership more easily than she’d ever have expected. It was most unsettling.

The cold really came for them at night.  Despite it all, Scrooge liked to spend every waking hour that he could outside. He mined by day, from the moment dawn broke, until the moment the sun set, and for the most part Goldie worked with him. And when the stars lit up the sky, everything seemed to calm, just a little. 

At first Goldie called him mad. Sitting outside at night, in the Yukon? A surefire way to catch your death, she said. But Scrooge just stoked the fire and handed her a thick blanket, and offered her a sip of scotch out of his pewter hip flask. The rich liquid burned her throat as it went down, but she had to admit it did help with the cold. She handed the flask back to Scrooge, pausing for a moment when she noticed the faded tartan and Celtic inscription on one side. 

‘Family heirloom?’ She asked, an eyebrow raised. 

Scrooge’s eyes narrowed. ‘Aye, ye might say that. It’s got no value mind, only sentimental. So don’t get any ideas.’ 

‘Scrooge, I am offended you would even think such a thing,’ she lay a hand on her chest and looked away, feigning genuine upset. Scrooge quickly turned sheepish, the top of his beak colouring pink in shame. 

‘I... um... I didn’t mean...’ he fumbled for words, unsure of how exactly to apologise for assuming the thief had a motive for theft. 

‘I mean, it’s not even silver. Give me some credit, Sourdough. Some things are not worth the effort of stealing.’ 

Scrooge coloured further still at her words, layering anger on top of embarrassment. Goldie chuckled as he turned a nice shade of puce. 

‘I’m just helping you keep warm, Scroogey,’ she teased, throwing the blanket around her shoulders and settling beside the camp fire. ‘You could boil a kettle on those rosy cheeks of yours when you get all mad at me.’ 

‘Infuriating woman,’ Scrooge grumbled, and sat down heavily, opening a can of beans and emptying them into the pot that hung over the fire. 

Goldie watched, saying nothing. The silence hung between them for a moment, and then another, and when Scrooge looked up he saw she was still watching him, with a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

‘It belonged to my grandfather.’ He sighed, admitting defeat. ‘Dirty Dingus McDuck.’

Goldie whistled. ‘What a name. You know where you stand with a man called Dirty Dingus.’ 

‘Aye.’ Scrooge agreed, grimly. ‘He was a miner - coal mostly.’ 

‘Taught you everything you know, huh?’

Scrooge scoffed. ‘Hardly. I barely even met him. He spent most of his life breathing in dust in the coal mines and as such, well, he didn’t live all that long. Just long enough to drive my father crazy by refusing to tell him where the Knight’s Templar treasure was hidden.’

‘Treasure, hmm?’ Goldie’s eyes sparkled suddenly. 

‘It’s an old legend, and it’s all rubbish. My father has tried to find it for years with no luck. Sometimes I think Dirty Dingus made it up just to mess with him.’

‘He sounds like fun.’ Goldie chuckled.

‘He was cruel.’ Scrooge corrected, seriously. ‘He was cruel to my father.’ Goldie stopped laughing and looked at him, cocking her head curiously. 

‘What about your daddy, Scrooge? Was he cruel to you too?’ There was an edge to her voice that seemed to make the temperature drop just that bit lower, despite the fire.

He looked down at his feet. ‘No,’ he said, quietly. ‘Just... poor.’ 

‘Poverty is cruel,’ Goldie remarked, sitting back and looking up at the stars. Anything to stop looking at him, the poor man she planned to rob for everything he had. And she would. She couldn’t let herself get distracted. She was here with him for a reason.

‘Poverty is the only thing that can teach you the true value of riches,’ Scrooge said. ‘Hard work that results in reward. I’m glad for where I’ve come from, because it means I’ll appreciate where I’m going to go.’ 

‘And where’s that, hmm?’ Goldie glanced back at him, and she couldn’t help but smile at the dreamy look on his face. Sitting there in his long johns and his patched up coat, he looked ridiculous. And yet.

‘I’m going to be the richest duck in the world, one day,’ he said at last, and he looked at her, as though daring her to laugh at him. 

Goldie just grinned, and it made him blush. ‘You and me both, Moneybags. You and me both.’ 

  
  
  


On and on the winter dragged, and just when it looked like the skies were looking brighter by day, heavy clouds began to gather in the distance, rumbling and rolling over the mountains until they settled over White Agony Valley, bringing a great wild raging storm along with them. 

That night, as the storm howled all around the little cabin, there came a crash, and Goldie sat bolt upright in bed. At first, she didn’t know what had woken her, but then she heard a muffled curse and felt a cold gust of wind, both from coming from the direction of the wood bin. There came a crack and another loud crash, and she was out of bed before she even heard Scrooge cry out. 

Goldie hurried across the cabin and wrenched open the door to the wood bin, only to be hit right in the face by an ice cold flurry of snow. The storm had brought the roof in, and a thick layer of ice and snow with it. Scrooge was on the ground, spluttering and shaking off shards of broken timber, looking a little bit dazed. 

‘Are you alright?’ Goldie asked, pulling the last few beams off him and offering him her hand. He didn’t take it, and instead hurried about gathering the now damp fire wood in his arms. 

‘Quick, help me get these logs inside,’ he said, through chattering teeth. ‘Before the storm wets them through!’ 

Goldie didn’t need telling twice. She opened the door wide and let Scrooge pass, and then moved to gather her own armful. As she piled the logs high in the crook of her arm, her eye caught a flash of something in the moonlight. A glint of metal, nestled right in the corner, tucked under the pile of splintered timber Scrooge had been using as a very uncomfortable mattress. 

It was his lockbox. The precious strong box in which lay not only his prize for nugget, but also the deed to his claim, and most importantly, the  _ map _ to the golden lagoon. 

‘What are ye jes’ standing there for? Come on lass, get inside before the whole bin comes down on us!’ 

Goldie forced herself not to jump at the sound of his voice. She kicked at a couple of loose logs and they rolled into place to cover the box, he’d never know she’d seen it’s hiding place, and turned with her arms full of logs. 

‘Move over then, let me get these inside,’ she strode past him brusquely and he quickly loaded up his arms again and followed suit. Between them it took three more trips to bring all of the wood inside, and when the last of it was cleared Goldie sat down heavily in the little wooden chair by the table, exhausted from the sudden burst of exercise. 

Scrooge closed the door behind him, but it was hanging loose on its hinges. Goldie shivered as the wind continued to howl through into the cabin. Quickly, he took out a hammer and began to nail scraps of timber over the worst of the holes. Goldie watched him, lacking the energy to even throw in a smart comment, and when he finally dropped the hammer and turned, sinking to the ground with the patched up door to his back, their eyes finally met. 

‘Well, that was a bit of excitement at least,’ Goldie remarked, sparing a tired smile. Scrooge very nearly returned it, but then the reality of the situation caught up with him, and he puffed himself up once more. 

‘Sorry to have woken you,’ he said, gruffly. ‘I’ll need to wait until the storm stops to fix the roof, but it should ease in the morning. I’ll sleep here on the floor for the rest of tonight, I’ll nay bother you at all.’ 

Goldie rolled her eyes. ‘Scrooge, don’t be an idiot. It’s blowing a gale out there and with that great big hole in the wood bin’s roof and your patch job on that door, it’s not going to stay warm in here for long. We’ll both freeze by morning if we don’t do something.’ 

‘Well, what do you suggest?’ Scrooge asked. 

Goldie surveyed the room and her eyes landed on the stove, and the small pile of dry wood next to it. She glanced back at Scrooge and saw he was looking at the very same thing. Though she doubted the thoughts running through his head was as welcome as the ones in hers. 

‘Come on,’ Goldie said, hurrying over to the stove and covering her hands with the blanket from her bed so that she could grab one side of it without getting burned. The stove was still hot from their meal earlier that evening. Scrooge stared at the corner of the blanket she offered him. 

‘What do ye mean to do?’ He asked, though he knew perfectly well and Goldie knew that he did. She rolled her eyes and obliged him anyway. 

‘I mean to move this closer to the bed, so we can soak up all the heat we can, while it lasts. There should be enough dry wood to get us til morning. The rest should have dried out by tomorrow night if we keep the cabin warm.’ 

‘And you mean for the both of us to... in the bed... I mean you want me to...

He trailed off as he lifted the other side of the stove and helped her shuffle it closer. His face flushed red, and Goldie knew it wasn’t from the heat of the stove. Her own heart danced in her chest, it always seemed to get a little kick out of seeing him flustered because of her. It was happening more and more. 

‘It’ll be a tight fit but that’s not a bad thing when you’re sharing body heat,’ Goldie commented, practically. Scrooge’s eyes bulged and his heart raced, but he forced himself to stay calm. He shivered, suddenly. The temperature of the cabin was already dropping, and they both knew she was right. They didn’t have another option. 

Once the stove was set in place, Scrooge set about loading the burner with enough wood to last them until morning - though not enough to deplete their supply entirely. Goldie shook out the thick blanket and laid it over the hard wooden bed, and wasted no time in shimmying under it. Scrooge quickly joined her, though it seemed to take every last ounce of his self control to do so. 

When Goldie disappeared under the blanket and came out seconds later, holding her nightgown, Scrooge nearly fell out of the bed. 

‘What are ye doing? Ye mad woman!’ He gasped, clutching at the side of the bed and shuffling as far from her as he could - which, unfortunately for him, was not very far. 

Goldie sighed, wearily. ‘Really Scrooge, I thought you had more sense. We’re covered in melted snow, our clothes are wet. If we sleep in them, it doesn’t matter how dry the cabin is, we’ll be dead, or on our way to it, by morning.’ 

‘I... but... it’s not proper...’ 

Goldie felt a rush if warmth fill her chest again. He really was the sweetest... most  _ infuriating _ man. She didn’t say this out loud, of course. ‘We can be proper and dead, or improper and alive. Take your pick.’

She shook out her nightgown and hung it over the bed post, closest to the stove. Meanwhile, Scrooge entered into a battle of morals with his own conscience. 

She was right, of course. Sharing body heat was the most sensible course of action. And his long johns were soaked from the snow, he would likely catch his death if he stayed in them. And, well he supposed they were under a blanket, and so long as he didn’t lay a hand on her, or embarrass himself by letting his body get the better of him... he felt his cheeks grow warmer still at the very thought. Could he be sure he wouldn’t?

Then there was the propriety of it all. True, it wasn’t as though he was taking a liberty. She’d invited him into her bed after all, he’d have been just fine sleeping on the floor. So long as his intentions were innocent, there was really nothing improper about it. 

So long as his intentions were innocent. 

_ Were they? _ To his horror, the question arrived in his mind in his mother’s voice. 

‘Are you going to take them off or what?’ Goldie’s voice cut through his thoughts like a knife through butter. He jumped and glanced nervously over at her, and she regarded him with an almost soft expression, just for a moment. 

‘Scrooge, it’s okay.’ She assured him, taking a steadying breath before continuing. ‘I trust you.’ The confession hung heavy in the cabin. 

Scrooge huffed, awkwardly. ‘I don’t know that I trust myself.’ He admitted. Goldie grinned, her eyes glinting in the moonlight.

‘Well, I’m willing to take that chance. Come on, it’s late and we’ve got gold to mine in the morning. I’ll even avert my eyes, for decency’s sake.’

Goldie lay down under the covers again and turned her back to him, and after a split second of further deliberation, Scrooge screwed up his courage and took the leap. He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, unbuttoned his long johns and quickly peeled the sodden garment from his shivering limbs, and followed Goldie’s example by laying them over a corner of the headboard in the hope that they would be dry by dawn. Teeth chattering, he carefully lifted the edge of the blanket and slipped back under it, keeping to the furthest side of the bed and ensuring there was as much space between him and the naked woman in his bed as he could, without being on the floor. 

They lay in silence, and as the minutes passed, Scrooge wondered if Goldie had already fallen asleep. She was right next to the stove, she had to be warm enough. Scrooge tried not to let his body tremble but he couldn’t help it; he  _ wasn’t _ right next to the stove, and he was  _ cold _ . His teeth rattled and the sound echoed through the cabin. In front of him in the darkness, the blanket moved and Goldie’s warm fingers suddenly curled around his forearm and tugged him closer to her. 

He didn’t have the will to fight it, and he let her pull him flush against her back. She clasped his hand to the softness of her chest and covered it with her own, and as his body curled around hers all he could think about was how warm and soft and perfect she felt. His other arm slipped under the pillow and she raised her head momentarily, and settled back down against the crook of his elbow as though it was the most natural thing in the world. His fingers curled into her newly short hair, and he buried his face in her shoulder. 

Goldie relaxed back into Scrooge’s embrace, surprised that he’d been amenable to her prompting but certainly not disappointed. With the stove in front of her, and Scrooge hugging her tightly from behind, she was so warm and cosy she might have been in her own bed back in Dawson. Except... no, she couldn’t have been. Because even in that big, soft bed, never had she let her guard down long enough to truly settle into the anchor of a lover’s embrace. She was always planning her next move, or dreaming herself somewhere else, she never welcomed the arms that encased her there. But this, this was something new entirely. This was intimacy and warmth and a kind of  _ safety _ she’d never admit feeling in the arms of a man. And he’d barely even touched her. 

The last thought in Goldie’s mind as she drifted off to sleep was;

_ ‘Oh boy, am I in trouble.’ _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There aren't words to describe how much I love Koizumi-Marichan's art for this chapter. It's so beautiful I want to print it and frame it... I actually might! She blows my mind every time she does a chapter illustration but this time it's a whole damn comic. I just want to take a minute of appreciation for her talent because it honestly kills me seeing my words brought to life in her art and I'm so happy we decided to do this Klondike collab together.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let us know what you think in the comments!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING - this chapter contains adult content. In fact, it's pretty much all adult content. 
> 
> If you DO NOT want to read said adult content, please feel free to skip this chapter. I will be sure to include any key plot points in the opening of the following chapter, so you won't miss anything necessary to the story. 
> 
> Mari's art for this chapter is suggestive though not graphic - however again I must stress, it illustrates said adult content, so proceed with caution. Have I said adult content enough? Once more for luck: ADULT CONTENT. 
> 
> In other news, it's moon_opals' birthday weekend! So koizumi-marichan and I should like to dedicate this chapter of debauchery to our Scroldie smut sister. HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU GLORIOUS SCROLDIE QUEEN, YOU.

Goldie awoke the next morning to find that while the fire had died, she, thankfully, was still alive. The warm weight and the rise and fall of the firm chest pressed up against her back confirmed that Scrooge had made it through the night too. The thought warmed her even more in the cold light of the morning. 

He was still asleep, she assumed. There was no way he’d be holding her this tightly to his furnace of a body otherwise. She shifted, as subtly as she could, so that she could settle more comfortably in his arms without risking jostling him awake. That wouldn’t do. She wasn’t ready to lose his embrace around her just yet. 

His right hand rested lightly on top of her naked breast, her own hand had been clasped on top of it holding it firmly in place when they’d drifted off but now it was there of it’s own volition. She smirked, picturing the blush that would spread all over his face when he woke and realised their position, and had to stifle a laugh. 

She froze, as his breathing caught and he suddenly shifted behind her. She closed her eyes tightly and feigned sleep, and hoped to hell this wasn’t the end of it. She was enjoying herself far too much for it to end now, and the moment he woke she knew it would. 

Eventually his breathing began to even out again and Goldie relaxed. And then she noticed something. 

His hand still rested on her breast, but it was not idle as it had been before. Now, the grip of his fingers had changed, he was holding her firmly, and his thumb had begun to gently trace the soft feathers in slow, mesmerising circles. 

Was he awake? Surely he couldn’t be. The blushing virgin would have made himself scarce the moment he woke with a naked woman in his arms, however much she was enjoying being there. 

‘Scrooge,’ she whispered, softly. It was little more than a breath on the air. He didn’t reply with words, he only grunted sleepily and held her closer, his leg slipping between hers. 

Not quite awake and not quite asleep. Well, this was a conundrum of consent if Goldie ever faced one. 

She truly hadn’t planned this. Her only thought in the night had been survival. It was only when Scrooge’s arms had wrapped around her and she’d settled back into his embrace that she realised how much she wanted this. It scared her... she wanted him so much she almost forgot why she was there in the first place. 

The thumb ruffling her feathers suddenly brushed over a sensitive spot and she gasped, and her back arched. Scrooge’s hand slipped from her breast as she heaved a breath and began to trail down her body, and she bit the bottom of her beak and turned her face into the pillow to keep from making any more noise as his fingers traced the taught plains of her stomach. 

She dared to rest her own hand featherlight on top of his, following his journey south for the winter as her insides twitched and coiled readily, in anticipation.

At that moment, Goldie felt something against her back. Prodding at her, hot and firm and insistent, and good  _ god _ she wanted nothing more than to reach behind her and wrap her hands around him and guide him to where she wanted him most... 

His fingertips brushed between her legs and she couldn’t help but grind against the leg that lay between hers and moan into the crook of his arm. It was too much.  

And then, everything stopped. Her own breath caught in her throat as she felt Scrooge suddenly stiffen in quite a different way, and when his hips suddenly shifted back away from hers she felt his absence as though a chasm had opened between them. He tore his hand away and the cold morning air whipped across Goldie’s body and she shivered. 

‘Forgive me,’ Scrooge mumbled, extracting his arm from under her head so quickly that he almost spun her off the bed. ‘I... I didn’t... I...  _ forgive me _ ,’ he said again, and he snatched up his dry clothes and left the bed. He was gone before Goldie could even turn around. 

She was left staring at the closed door, feeling more than a little frustrated. 

_ Damnit, Scrooge. Just when a bad night was about to get good. _ She flopped onto her back, clutching the twisted sheets to her, fighting to catch her breath. She was practically burning with desire, and she knew he wasn’t about to return any time soon. That’d be the last she saw of him all day, she expected. So without further ado she let her own hand slip between her legs in an effort to ease the fire that raged there. 

_ That bastard _ , she thought as she worked herself with expert precision. She was no stranger to having to find satisfaction at her own hands, and wasn’t foolish enough to think that Scrooge McDuck, with all his wide eyed bashfulness and crippling virginity would have done a better job than she could, but it was still the memory of the feeling of his strong arms wrapped tightly around her and his warm breath on her neck that carried her mercilessly toward her orgasm. 

She unravelled at her own touch and when she could bear it no longer, she turned her face into the pillow once more and cried out in equal parts frustration and release. 

And outside the cabin door, fighting the bitter cold of the morning in the wreckage of the wood bin, Scrooge shuddered and gasped as he thrust helplessly into his own hand, wishing it was hers and that he was still pressed up against her soft, warm and supple form, but at the same time terrified of what such an act might lead to. 

As the sun rose over White Agony Valley, the two ducks floated down from their respective highs with what felt like miles between them, and they did not speak of it again.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO SCROLDIES!
> 
> It's been such a long time. I'm so sorry. But we're back! With a super long chapter filled with drama and not one but two - yes TWO! - beautiful comics from the amazing Mari (Koizumi-Marichan). 
> 
> Thank you for your patience, and enjoy the drama!

Dawson town was in limbo. 

There hadn’t been a show at the Blackjack in weeks. After Glittering Goldie went missing, the place went into meltdown. The girls tried their best to carry on and a few even tried their hand at the books, but only Goldie knew how to run the place. As Sherrie despaired over ledgers and order forms, and countless demands for hush money, she found her existing respect for (and a healthy fear of) Goldie growing into full blown admiration. How did she know how to do all this? How did she keep them all safe in this town of lawmakers, swindlers and thieves? All Sherrie could do in the end was close the place - temporarily - it was the only way to keep it standing. 

Of course, that meant a lot of the girls had to find employment elsewhere. The Tentpole Tavern enjoyed a momentary renaissance in the absence of the Blackjack, but it wasn’t the same and folk weren’t afraid to say so. 

With Goldie gone, and no one having heard a sniff from Soapy Slick in months, Dawson town was... quiet. 

Dawson town was bored. 

And that’s when General Steele rode into town. 

  
  


After the night of the storm, Scrooge kept himself busy for the whole morning, doing everything he could to rebuild the wood bin to a satisfactory standard before night fell.

Goldie watched, from a safe distance. It was still freezing outside, far too cold to mine anything, and so she was stuck inside with nothing to do but play the events of the previous night over and over in her mind. Every grunt from Scrooge as he hammered away at his task set the feathers on the back of her neck standing on end, and a blush to her cheeks. It was inconvenient, to say the least.

 

 

 

Scrooge, meanwhile, was doing everything he could to ignore her presence. They hadn’t spoken about what had happened... hadn’t happened... _almost_ happened. That morning, when he woke to find her in his arms, his hands wandering unconsciously on the edge of sleep, he had been ashamed. Mortified, even. And the worst of it was that he hadn’t wanted to stop. She made him feel things he’d never felt before, made him lose control of himself in a way he never had. And that scared him more than he dared to admit. 

Goldie didn’t take well to being ignored. 

At first, she tried being... nice. She knew he was embarrassed, after all. Perhaps if she made it clear she wasn’t offended, he might eventually buckle and acquiesce to a repeat performance, perhaps with an encore too. She reasoned with herself, very firmly, that it was the only way to distract him long enough for her to make off with the gold and the map. 

When Scrooge returned from the cold, his beak blue and his hands burned from the snow, but looking satisfied with his work, and the fact that he once again had a place to store his firewood and hide from Goldie, he paused in the doorway, frozen at the sight of the unlikely scene. 

She had made him breakfast. 

A steaming plate of eggs and bacon, the few items of fresh food they had left, and topped with his familiar tinned beans. His mouth filled with saliva at the smell of it. Then the aroma of fresh coffee hit him too, just as Goldie turned around to face him with a warm smile, the pot in her hand. 

‘I thought you’d be hungry, after all that work,’ she commented, glancing up at him through her thick, dark lashes as she poured him a cup. It smelled perfect; fresh and hot, not like the muddy tar he would make himself each morning, reusing the same grounds over and over until they were truly indistinguishable from the dirt outside. 

Scrooge blinked at the scene, dazzled for a moment. He had a sudden vision of the future - a dream he’d had a hundred times before. Him, returning to his ancestral home, the towering turrets of Castle McDuck and his family, who wanted for nothing, such was his fortune and success. The dream usually ended there, his return home, his return to his family’s welcoming arms. Only now, the dream drifted a little further, to a morning not too dissimilar from this one. He stepped into a cosy corner of a grand dining hall, and found his beautiful wife there at the table, pouring him fresh coffee she’d made herself because no one could make it quite the same, and greeting him with a soft, warm kiss as she handed him a cup. 

It was a simple scene, but it was more than he’d ever dreamed of before. His heart thumped heavily in his chest and he thought she must be able to hear it. He returned to reality with a bump and realised she was still looking deep into his eyes, and holding out his coffee. The blood pumping furiously through his veins all rushed to his face, and he knew that even if she somehow had missed his thundering heart beat, she couldn’t not see that. And so he did the only logical thing, and covered his embarrassment with anger.

‘What are ye doing wasting food when we’re not through the winter yet?’ He raged, gesturing wildly at the spread. ‘It’ll be weeks before the spring thaw, maybe even months!’

Goldie’s eyes widened. She hadn’t known what she’d expected, but now it was happening she realised she really should have expected exactly this. Why did this man inflame her so! He was infuriating, and he was an idiot of the very worst kind. She should have knocked him out the first night she’d had the chance and put this whole mess behind her. 

‘Well, excuse me for wanting to do something nice for you, after you almost got crushed by roof tiles in the night!’ She spat back, slamming the coffee cup down on the table so hard that half the liquid slopped out onto the table.

‘Careful!’ Scrooge grumbled, grabbing the cup to steady it. ‘Do ye want to waste even more?’ 

‘Anything’s a waste when it’s on you!’ Goldie snapped. ‘It’s here now, it’s made and it’s not going to be unmade, so why don’t you sit your grumpy arse down and eat your damn breakfast, hmm?’ 

Scrooge was speechless. He stared at her, unblinking, and she glared back. She pulled out his chair and looked pointedly at it, until finally he could do nothing else but what he was told. He sat down firmly, his arms folded, and Goldie went to top up his coffee before she poured her own and sat down beside him. 

‘It’s a lot nicer than that strong as dirt stuff you make every morning,’ she commented, sipping her drink while he glared at his own. 

‘So long as it’s not as strong as the last cup of coffee you gave me,’ he grumbled. Goldie rolled her eyes. 

‘Please, Scrooge. If I wanted to knock you out I have much simpler means at my disposal out here than drugging your morning coffee.’

Her eyes darted to the frying pan on top of the stove, wistfully. Her words sounded more like a promise than a threat. Scrooge swallowed heavily, and relented, taking a sip of his coffee. 

In the end, he ate every bite, but he grumbled all the while just so she would know he wasn’t happy about it. Goldie, in turn, glared at him as he chewed grumpily, and very much wished she had a bag of flour to throw in his ungrateful face. 

 

And so, their dance continued. Scrooge went back to sleeping in his Wood Bin and Goldie went back to the hard, wooden bed, that felt colder than it had ever before now what she knew the warmth of Scrooge’s body tucked tightly behind hers. She took to sleeping on her side, her arms wrapped around herself, but it was a poor consolation to the embrace she’d tasted before. 

The weeks dragged on, the days growing slowly longer. It was a long winter, while the ground was too solid to mine. The tension in the cabin grew and grew, with Goldie becoming more and more impatient with every passing day. 

They didn’t talk anymore. They hadn’t at all, not since that night. Scrooge spoke to her - but only to argue, or to berate or complain. She argued back, ignoring the way that her gut twisted every time she saw him looking at her just a little too long, with a shadow of something in his eyes that kindled the embers that continued to burn inside her. But they didn’t talk, not like they had out by the campfire, under the stars. 

It was unbearable. She wanted to hit him, or kiss him. But doing neither was driving her mad. It finally came to a head one morning, when she’d leaned over him to pour his coffee and he’d turned his head just at the wrong moment, his beak grazing the soft feathers of her breasts. She was wearing her dress that day, her more practical clothing was drying by the fire, and so there was rather more chest to contend with than either of them had been used to of late. She froze, caught off guard by the contact. But she didn’t move. Scrooge didn’t either, at first. 

It would be so easy - for either of them. All that needed to happen was the tiniest movement. Scrooge might turn his head just slightly further, nuzzling into her chest as his hand moved to the small of her back, tucking her in closer to him. Goldie might just lay her hand on his shoulder, perhaps place a gentle kiss on his temple, and slide onto his lap which was open and always ready to accommodate her. 

But that would be too simple. That would lead to something neither of them were quite brave enough to face, head on. Away from the obscurity of night, one of them had to take the lead, and neither found they could. 

Scrooge cracked first. Goldie had dared to breathe, and the result was a heaving breast at even closer proximity to the young duck than it had been before. He jerked away, knocking the coffee cup over and sending the hot liquid seeping all across the table. 

‘Careful what yer doin, lass!’ He yelped, righting the cup quickly. 

Goldie frowned, and stood up straight, her pupils flaring. She was turned on, damnit, and once again she knew it was going to go nowhere. 

‘Me, be careful? You’re the one spilling yourself all over the place with no help from me,’ she said, eyeing him sharply so the double entendre was impossible to miss. 

‘You’re trying to distract me - you always are! Even after all this time, you’ll take any chance to make away with my gold, won’t you?’ Scrooge was reaching. She knew he was, knew exactly what he was doing, and yet still she let it get to her. She couldn’t help it. Whenever he reminded her of her intent, it strengthened something in her resolve. 

Goldie glared at him, and he glared back. There was a fire in their shared gaze, the same fire that smouldered there, day after day, never quite building into anything more but always threatening, like a campfire on the edge of a forest of brush at the end of a long, dry summer. 

‘You know what?’ She pushed away from the table, suddenly in need of distance. And quite a bit of cool, fresh air. ‘We need more fire wood. I’m gonna go get some.’ 

And with that, she left Scrooge seething at the table, mad about something - he seemed to always have something to be mad about. Goldie marched out of the cabin, wrapping the coat he had made her around her shoulders as she went. 

They didn’t really need fire wood, but it was all she could do these days to get out of the cabin. She’d taken to shifting her route as each week passed, closer and closer to the glacier every time she went out. 

She would walk for hours, until she reached the edge of the valley. Then she would wander the frozen foot of the mountain, her eyes searching for any sign of the thing having melted enough to provide a way through. At this point, she would take her chances without the map. She’d gotten a good enough look at it when she had taken it from Scrooge the first time. She figured if she found her way through, she had a better shot than anyone else of finding the Golden Lagoon. 

But then of course, if she did find it, then that was it. The end of a long winter in White Agony Valley - which was a place she would not miss in the slightest. But the end of her and Scrooge, too. Whatever that meant. Whatever they were. But they were _something_ , she knew that much. It seemed like something of an anticlimax if she just went out for firewood one morning and didn’t come back. 

She trailed along the edge of the valley, lost in thought. She thought of her Blackjack, of her town, of her girls. She’d gotten over the loss of them easy enough when she’d gotten stuck here. She’d get over the loss of Scrooge too. That’s what she told herself as she searched, half heartedly, for a way through. The cold wind whipped her hair up and around her face, now grown long again. Her fingers threaded through her golden locks, twisting them into a braid over her shoulder. Scrooge loved it when she braided her hair. He’d never said, of course. But she had seen him watch her do it, his dark eyes following the way she twisted and tucked the hair, all the way to the end when she tied it securely with a piece of red satin she’d carefully sliced free from the underskirts of her dress. She reached the end of the braid, and held it to her chest, remembering their almost encounter from earlier that morning. How was it that the slightest touch of his beak could send her spiralling in her own thoughts? It was all that had been on her mind since she left the cabin, hours earlier, and it would be there still for hours yet. 

Eventually, Goldie reached the edge of the creek. The glacier stretched on the other side, and on other outings she had made the leap across to check the trails she knew lay up ahead. Only she didn’t look all that closely today. She paused on the edge of the creek, and stared down at the rushing water. At least it was flowing again, she reasoned. They’d been boiling ice for months. By their next argument, she reasoned she ought to be able to make a proper escape. Yes, the next time would be it, she was sure about that. But for now, she turned on her heel and began to trek home, absently picking up kindling and the odd fallen log as she went. 

  
  


As Goldie approached the valley, she paused, her feathers standing on end. Something wasn’t right. 

She proceeded with caution, staying quiet and keeping to the cover of the woodland. A few hundred yards more and then she saw the tracks. 

A sled? Someone was here. Someone had found them - found Scrooge’s claim. Goldie didn’t stop to think about it any further, she dropped the firewood she was carrying, grabbed her pistol from her holster, and started running. 

She heard the sounds of struggle before she saw them. Scrooge was cursing wildly in his mother tongue, and when she finally laid eyes on him, she had to wonder why she’d ever been concerned. The two fellows who had rounded on him were being soundly beaten to a pulp. She didn’t recognise them, and while they looked deadly as hell and were managing to get the odd hit on her duck here and there, she knew he could handle himself. 

These men couldn’t have come from the mountains. The land was impassable, an impossible gorge, she ought to know. She’d tried plenty of times to find another way out, another way back to Dawson, but there was none. The only way back was through the glacier, and yet these men were here. And that could only mean one thing. She must have just missed it! She had just been there, right there! She hadn’t seen, but really she hadn’t looked. And more fool her, because here was the evidence right in front of her. 

The path through the glacier had opened up again. 

Goldie headed straight for the cabin. She might have missed her chance to escape through the glacier before, but she’d be damned if she was going to miss out on the greater prize. Scrooge was busy, and his locked up treasures were hers for the taking. She ducked through the open door and padded quietly across the cabin, heading for the wood bin. 

She knew he hadn’t known she’d found his hiding place. Stupid miner, he made himself so damn easy to swindle. Goldie ignored the noise from outside as best she could, and focussed on her prize. 

She wasted no time in lifting the loose wood aside, and there it was. The strongbox. It was wedged in pretty tightly, and she struggled a little to wiggle it free. When it finally came loose, she lost her footing, stumbling backwards and landing heavily on her behind. It hurt, but she didn’t notice. She couldn’t. All she saw was the box in her hand. The map hidden within. _The treasure_. 

She pulled a pin from her hair and picked the lock with ease. It sprang open, and she opened the lid with a reverence verging on euphoria.

There it was, the nugget. Just as beautiful as the day she’d first laid eyes on it. It glittered in the dim light that shone through from the cabin and the glow of gold reflected in Goldie’s wide eyes. 

She allowed herself to be dazzled for a moment, and then turned her attention to the rest of the contents. This was where Scrooge kept his special things, his most precious treasures. There had to be more than the nugget in here. The deed to his claim, at the very least! And now she’d been here she knew that wasn’t something to skip over for the sake of a mythical treasure map without a second glance. There was a heck of a lot of gold hidden beneath their feet, and whether she found the Golden Lagoon or not, the value buried in White Agony Valley would certainly be enough to set her up for life. 

She flipped through the papers hidden within. Faded letters from his family; his mother, his sisters. She tried not to focus on them, and tried not to let herself think about why. She couldn’t understand his motivation to provide for them, so tainted was her heart by the cruel memories of her own family. But she knew if she read the words of Scrooge’s poor, kind mother, she risked a crack in her resolve. So she left them folded and sealed, the contents hidden from view. 

The first real treasure she came across was the map. At last! She could leave this place, leave Scrooge to his claim jumpers, and find the Golden Lagoon all by herself. No sharing of riches required. Goldie held up the leathery parchment in victory and kissed it. 

She ignored the shouts from beyond the Wood Bin’s walls as she continued her search. 

So many letters! Still, she didn’t read them, but she saw enough to know what they were. The dates stretched back for years, perhaps all the years of his adventures, all that time he’d been away from home. Missed by his mother, by his sisters. Every one of them began the same; _Dearest Scroogey..._ She ought to laugh at the nickname. So why did the lump in her throat swell along with the pang in her heart? 

At last, her rifling brought up something else of value - the deed. She lifted it out carefully, and went to unfurl it, when her eye caught sight of something else in the box. There, amongst all the letters from home, was a folded piece of paper sealed with a notary stamp, and the wax seal of the Dawson City land registry. She paused, and frowned in confusion. If that was the deed to Scrooge’s claim, then what did she have in her hand? 

A strange feeling settled on her as she felt the weight of the paper suddenly grow heavy as lead. Her blood stilled in her veins, pooling in a spot just below her ears, making her face hot and her head light all at the same time. 

She unfolded the paper, and there, nestled inside and tied oh-so-carefully with a red satin ribbon, was a lock of golden hair. 

The hand holding the parcel shook, and her other went directly to her nape, clutching at the now grown hair there as though to reassure herself that it couldn’t possibly be hers. But there was no mistaking that golden colour, perfectly and naturally highlighted as though lit by the sun. It was her hair, that was certain. It must have gotten caught up in his knife when he cut her free in the caves, all those months ago. And he kept it. Not only did he keep it, but he tied it up in a beautiful ribbon, and kept it nestled in amongst his greatest treasures, amongst deeds and maps and the words of those he loved, and who loved him. 

‘Oh my god,’ the words came unbidden, a murmur that couldn’t be contained. The realisation hit her hard in the face, and she blinked. ‘He loves me.’ She sat there, huddled in the Wood Bin, dazed and a little confused, until the pieces all fell into place. Eventually, she closed her eyes, shook her head and groaned. ‘The stupid _idiot_.’ 

Suddenly, there came a great crash from outside. A shot rang out, and the world that had seemed so far away, suddenly was right back on the other side of the Wood Bin’s walls. Goldie stuffed the paper back into the box, and closed the lid. And then she heard a voice she was not expecting. 

‘Don’t look like much of a King now, does he boys?’ 

Soapy Slick. She’d know that sneer anywhere. How he’d found them, how he’d even found his way back to Canada, she had no idea, but he was here now and that changed things. 

Soapy was an idiot, but he was a dangerous idiot. And, while he learned slowly, he still learned. Scrooge had gotten one over on him once, but he wasn’t likely to do so again. Not without help. 

Goldie scrambled to her feet, the strongbox still in one hand, her pistol in the other. She crept back into the cabin and over to the window, where she’d watched Scrooge work plenty of times before, and she knew he had never spotted her. From her vantage point, she saw the whole scene laid out before her, and she saw that Scrooge was in trouble. 

Soapy’s men had an arm each, and held him tightly between them. His legs were kicking but he couldn’t reach anything of value to give himself the chance to get free. They had him gagged, and he was bleeding from a deep looking gash at his temple, his eyes looked unfocused. They must have hit him with something mighty heavy, Goldie thought. 

Beside them, huskies barked and growled, straining at the harnesses of a dog sled. That was how they’d gotten there, clearly. And the dogs were riled up and ready to run again. 

Suddenly, a figure stepped out and blocked her view. It was Soapy himself, roughed up, unkempt and unwashed, but the same looming silhouette. Goldie didn’t normally pay said silhouette much mind, only this time, he had a shotgun in his hands. And he had it aimed at Scrooge’s head. 

Her fists went to clench, only they couldn’t, as one was still wrapped tightly around the strongbox. The tactile reminder that she didn’t have to stay. She had the map, she had the deed, heck - she even had the nugget. The path through the glacier was open, she could make a break for it. Scrooge would be alright, he always was. He was tough as anything, that spunky young miner, and he’d been through much worse, she reasoned.

But as she watched Soapy advance, stalking toward his prey and brandishing his weapon, her heart began to thump heavily against her ribs. She caught a glimpse of Scrooge over his shoulder, and saw his eyes. They were wide, and filled with pain. He was scared, he knew he couldn’t get away. 

‘End of the line, pipsqueak,’ Soapy growled. 

Scrooge glared back defiantly, but Goldie didn’t miss the way his eyes darted to the side, to the woods. In his last moments, he looked to the last place he’d seen her go, when she’d stormed off that morning. He was infuriating. 

 _‘Damn_ ,’ Goldie cursed under her breath.

She didn’t even stop to think about what she was going to do. Her feet moved of their own accord, carrying her through the cabin and out to the door at the far side, out of the villain’s line of sight. She kept to the shadows, the box still clutched to her chest, and carefully peered around the corner. 

Soapy cocked his shotgun, but Goldie moved faster. She took aim without a moment’s hesitation, and the shot rang out across the valley. There was a split second of stunned silence, and then a howl as Soapy dropped his weapon and clutched at his bleeding hand. Cursing, he looked around wildly for his attacker, and that’s when Goldie stepped out. 

‘O’Gilt,’ Soapy yelped, holding his hand to his chest. ‘You’re alive!’ 

‘Damn right, I’m alive,’ Goldie said, pistol still raised. ‘But you won’t be, if you carry on. Let him go, Slick.’ 

Though his face was etched with pain, he still managed to chuckle gleefully at this revelation. 

‘I knew you were soft for the Sourdough, Goldie,’ he taunted. ‘I never expected you to shack up with him in the mountains though. Little runt’s been mining for gold between your legs all this time, huh?’

Scrooge growled, and kicked out wildly. His captors held him tight, though they spared a glance of concern at the pistol in Goldie’s grasp, however intently it was pointed at Slick at present. 

Goldie felt rage building inside her, and fought to keep herself in check. She’d gone long enough without rising to Soapy Slick’s bait, she could make it a little further. 

‘I’m here for the treasure, you idiot, and nothing more,’ she spat. ‘You know your problem, Slick? Your brain’s too small. You can’t think bigger than a claim or two. Can’t think beyond a gold nugget in the ground. You have _no idea_ what’s out here.’ 

‘Well, how about you tell me? Since you’re so good at big thinkin’,’ Slick challenged, taking a step closer. He didn’t seem fazed by the weapon in her hand any longer, and that alone gave Goldie pause. Her mind was running a mile a minute trying to second guess his next move.

‘You tell me about this big payload of yours, and I _won’t_ tell my boys to tear your little lover-duck in two.’ Soapy grinned, his gold teeth glittering. 

Goldie froze. She glanced at Scrooge, who stared back, eyes wide and fearful - and she hated that she knew his fear was for her sake. 

‘You wouldn’t,’ Goldie hissed back, hoping she sounded more certain than she felt. ‘I’ll shoot you between the eyes before you even finish speaking.’ 

‘You do that, and he’s _definitely_ dead,’ Slick reasoned, taking another step closer. Goldie stepped back, but he kept advancing. Her blood rushed to her ears, her heart racing. This was not how it was supposed to go. 

‘Don’t you come another step closer, Slick,’ Goldie warned. But her words fell on deaf ears. He stalked towards her, and she knew if she didn’t do something then she might as well have none nothing, since he was mere feet away from wrenching her pistol from her grasp and then the both of them were as good as dead. 

And so she fired. 

The man to Scrooge’s right screamed and fell to the ground, his kneecap shattered. Scrooge groaned as his arm was wrenched hard out of its socket by his other captor, but he paid it no mind, since he still had one good arm, and it was now free. So he used it to land a punch so hard the man fell to the ground, knocked out. 

He spat the gag out as soon as he was free. _‘Goldie_...’ he said, trying to warn her as their eyes met. But she looked back at Slick just a moment too late, just in time for him to backhand her across the jaw and both send her and her pistol flying. 

The strongbox clattered to the ground and Slick bent to pick it up. He rattled it in his oversized paw, as Goldie moaned at his feet, struggling to push herself up again. Her face was on fire, she could hardly remember the last time someone hit her that had, and it had sent her whole body reeling. She knew what a broken jaw felt like and this wasn’t it, but it hurt enough for the sting of tears to spring to her eyes. 

‘You bastard,’ she managed to hiss, as Slick stood over her again. She saw the kick coming in slow motion, but that didn’t make it hurt any less when his boot slammed into her stomach. 

Suddenly another shot rang out, louder than the rest. Slick’s shotgun made the whole valley shake, and the force of the blast sent his hat flying off his head. He spun around to see Scrooge, half aiming, half leaning against the thing to keep himself upright. His face was white and one arm hung uselessly at his side, but his eyes burned with an unmistakable resolve. 

‘Don’t you lay another finger on her,’ he ground out. He fired wildly again, and this time he very nearly found his mark. Slick stumbled back, clutching the strongbox to his chest like a shield. Scrooge paid it no mind and loaded the weapon again. 

The other men, unnoticed by Scrooge, had come around enough to gather the wherewithal to drag themselves to the sled. The one Goldie had shot scrambled for the reins with shaking hands, ready to make their getaway. 

Scrooge might not have seen this, but Soapy did. He saw his getaway about to getaway without him, and so he took his chance. Ducking out of the line of fire, he pushed past Scrooge and made a break for it. No sooner had he leapt onto the sled than the dogs began to run, the momentum of Slick’s landing all the impetus they needed to move. Scrooge cursed and staggered after them, but they were quickly out of range, and in the end he threw the shotgun to the ground in defeat. 

Behind him, Goldie coughed and gasped for breath, winded as she was by Slick’s parting kick to her ribs. Scrooge spun around and returned to her side, dropping to his knees. 

‘Goldie...’ he said again, it seemed all he was able to say. He gathered her into his arms as best he could, and she pressed her face into his chest. 

‘You’re alright,’ Scrooge murmured, because he didn’t know what else to say. Goldie chuckled darkly, and then hissed in pain again. 

‘I’m not,’ she disagreed. Her voice was barely more than a wheeze. ‘The bastard cracked a rib - maybe two. _Damn him._ ’ 

‘I’ll kill him,’ Scrooge seethed, his fist clenching. Goldie rolled her eyes, and took a few more deep breaths in the safety of his embrace before dragging herself back up onto her forearms. She regarded Scrooge through red, streaming eyes. She wasn’t crying, she would not cry, but tear ducts acted on their own accord and she ignored them. 

‘You don’t look like you could kill anything, right now,’ she observed. She nodded at his arm. ‘That doesn’t look very good.’ 

‘It’s fine,’ Scrooge grunted. ‘Dislocated is all. It’s happened plenty. I just need to give it a minute and I’ll put it back in.’ 

Goldie looked slightly green at the prospect. ‘If you say so.’ 

Scrooge pushed himself upright with this good arm and went to take hold of the one that hung uselessly at his side. Goldie’s eyes widened when she realised what he was about to do. 

‘Wait!’ She cried out, and Scrooge paused. 

‘What?’ He said, frowning at her in confusion. He didn’t recognise the expression on her face. She barely recognised the feeling in herself. 

‘I...’ she struggled to find the words to say what she wanted to say. What _did_ she want to say? It wasn’t words so much as a desperate need to save him from the pain she knew would come if he did what he was about to do. In the end, she stopped trying, and focussed on an action instead. She reached out to cradle his bruised face in her hand, and he leaned his cheek into her palm. 

‘Let me help you,’ she said, quietly. She didn’t know how she could, but that didn’t change the sentiment. Scrooge’s eyes softened, and gazed back into her glittering emeralds. 

‘You are,’ he assured her, seriously. Goldie swallowed and nodded, and shuffled closer to him still. She leaned in and rested her head against his temple, brushing her thumb across his cheek, and when Scrooge felt the soft warm of her pressing against him, he was emboldened. 

And so, he yanked hard on his own arm and leaned into Goldie with his full weight, allowing her arms to come up around him just at the moment his shoulder popped back into place and he groaned into the side of her neck. 

Goldie winced at the sound, and wrapped her arms tightly around him, cradling him to her as he had done for her not long before. 

There was silence for a moment, as Scrooge struggled through a few heavy breaths, getting himself under control while the pain passed. At last, he collected himself to pull back slightly, and when he did so he found himself face to face with Goldie. 

Her eyes were sparkling still, her pupils blown. There was a blush to her cheeks that he hadn’t seen before, and Scrooge found his shaking hand coming up to mirror hers, cradling her warm cheek just as she had him. 

‘Goldie...’ he started, not knowing how to continue.  Goldie smiled, and blinked slowly, her thick lashes fluttering just slightly as their faces leaned closer together. Scrooge’s eyes began to close, and his head tilted to one side as hers went to the other, and before long they were closer than they had been in weeks, beaks brushing together softly, dancing close to the nearest hint of a kiss. 

‘Scrooge,’ Goldie murmured, breathlessly, as her hand left his cheek and trailed down his chest, settling at the top button of his thick red jacket and tugging him gently towards her. He moved easily, something stirring low in his belly, spurred on by the softness of her pressed up against him. Their legs were tangled together on the ground. 

 _‘Scrooge_ ,’ Goldie said again, more coherently this time. Suddenly there was air between them again, and he opened his eyes. Hers were open too, and darting around them. ‘The box... Scrooge! He’s taken the strongbox!’ 

Scrooge stared at her, glanced back to the cabin and then back at Goldie.

‘Eh - what? But... how?’ 

‘Never mind that.’ Goldie said quickly, brushing herself off and getting to her feet. She staggered a little, still winded, and clutched at her aching ribs as she held out a hand to help Scrooge up. He ignored the hand and pushed himself to his feet, instead slipping his arm under her shoulders and covering the hand that lay on her ribs with his own. Goldie leaned into him, the support appreciated, but nothing would loosen her resolve. 

‘You’re certain?’ Scrooge frowned, his eyes following the tracks of the sled that disappeared into the woods. Goldie nodded, furiously.

‘He’s got it, and that means he’s got the map! The goose egg nugget, the deed to your claim and the map to the Golden Lagoon - we can’t let him get away.’ 

‘He’s already gotten away!’ Scrooge spluttered in protest. 

Goldie shook her head. ‘He can’t have gone far, there’s no way out of the valley, not unless they go back to the glacier and they went east, not west. They’ll have to circle back around. We can catch them!’ 

‘Goldie, I...’ Scrooge trailed off, there was so much to say. So much he couldn’t find the words for. 

‘I know,’ Goldie assured him. ‘I _know_ , Scrooge. But we have to get our treasure back.’ 

Scrooge did not miss the possessive pronoun, nor the look on Goldie’s face when she realised what she had said. For a moment she looked lost, like she’d shown something of herself she hadn’t meant to. Her eyes widened in panic and Scrooge could see the way she began to withdraw, to build up her walls and lock away her heart. Everything about her became more sharp, more angular, and just when she was about to blow up, he did about the bravest thing he’d ever done. 

He took her hand, and held it tightly in his. She stared at their joined hands in shock, and then back up at him. 

‘That low life claim jumper will rue the day he thought he could cross us,’ Scrooge said, with a glint in his eye. ‘You’re right, we have to get our treasure back. And I know just how to do it.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter art by Koizumi-Marichan.
> 
>  
> 
> Well, here we go! The stakes (and the sexual tension) are higher than ever and this was an absolute bastard of a chapter to write. I wanted to bring in Soapy in a way that makes sense for these DT17 versions of Scrooge and Goldie. Unlike in Life and Times, Scrooge's parents are still alive, and so here we don't get to see Soapy in what I think was his most vile moment, when he read Scrooge's private letter and taunted him with the news of his mother's death. My Soapy is ABSOLUTELY just as much of a bastard as Life and Times Soapy, but he's been mostly comic relief so far, so I wanted him to have a moment to show how dangerous and nasty he actually is. And we're not done with him yet...
> 
> Let us know what you think! (And I promise the wait between chapters won't be this long again!)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (almost) New Year!
> 
> Please enjoy this chapter featuring a LOT of liberties taken with Don Rosa's original story lines. 
> 
> Koizumi-Marichan has provided TWO gorgeous pieces of art once again for this chapter, including a full on comic of what is now my favourite moment in this story!
> 
> Trigger warning for implied intended sexual abuse.

When Scrooge disappeared into the trees, leaving Goldie carefully propped up against the edge of the cabin, holding her injured side as she tried in vain to fix the braid Slick’s ham hands had just about torn apart, the last thing she expected him to do was reappear half a minute later, flanked by two enormous caribou bucks.

Her jaw dropped as Scrooge and his new friends trotted over to her, and he held out a hand to help her to her feet as her hair fell loose about her shoulders, propriety forgotten. 

‘Do I even want to know?’ She said, shaking her head as Scrooge reached up and patted the flank of the nearest beast. 

‘I told you, the animals of this valley and I have an understanding,’ Scrooge replied. ‘Now, come on. We have to be quick if we’re to catch up to Slick. Are you going to be able to ride?’ 

The concern in his gaze sent Goldie’s face flushing red. It made some parts of her feel warm and safe and soft and cherished - and it made the rest of her feel patronised and quick to anger. 

‘Of course I can ride,’ she snapped, refusing his hand and pushing herself upright. She gritted her teeth to avoid vocalising the sharp burst of pain that flared across her ribcage. Scrooge still had that stupid look on his face, so she figured she hadn’t been all that successful in hiding it. ‘What about you, are you so sure you can ride with that arm?’ 

‘What arm?’ Scrooge asked, with just a hint of a cheeky grin. He shrugged, demonstrating the miraculous ease of movement, and Goldie just glared. ‘Come on, we’ve got to go _now_.’ 

He crossed his palms and held out his hands in front of Goldie, looking up at her expectantly. For a second she looked like she was about to refuse, but then she stepped forward and grabbed the scruff of the beast’s neck, stepped into Scrooge’s waiting hands, and heaved herself up onto the caribou’s back. She couldn’t contain a few choice curses as she did so, such was the pain that tore through her body, but Scrooge, to his credit, did not acknowledge it. He just waited a second to make sure she was going to stay put, watching her carefully as she closed her eyes tightly waiting for the wave to pass, and then the second it did and her eyes blinked open, he turned his attention to his own steed. 

He hopped up onto the creature’s back - which easily stood two or three feet higher than him - with such ease that Goldie couldn’t help but be impressed. She’d seen him conquer plenty of impossible feats since they’d met, but with the beating he’d taken that day she wouldn’t have judged him if he’d given up on the map and taken to bed for a week. 

Once mounted, both took a moment to survey their surroundings, from the chaos that was their ruined claim to the sled tracks that twisted across the valley and disappeared into the woods. They hadn’t gone back towards Dawson, that was clear at any rate. In the heat of the moment, clearly all that had mattered was an escape, and that was what gave Scrooge and Goldie hope. Both knew the valley like the back of their hands by now, and both knew that the path Slick had taken led only to the frozen river - a river which had just recently started to thaw. Crossing it would be a death sentence, and they could only hope to catch up with him before he unwittingly sent the strongbox and their treasure map to the riverbed and over the edge of the falls. Along with himself, of course. A fact that neither Scrooge nor Goldie cared much about. 

Their eyes met, in silent agreement of the path they were to take, and without further ado Scrooge kicked his caribou into action, and Goldie’s followed right behind as they galloped into the shadow of the forest. 

On and on they went, leaping over felled trunks and ducking under branches, tearing a path through the undergrowth until they found the sled’s tracks and turned sharply to follow them. Every so often, Scrooge would risk a glance over his shoulder, only to see Goldie gaining on him and close to overtaking, her jaw set with determination and her sparkling eyes alight with a fire that could take out the whole valley. 

Scrooge returned his focus to the path ahead, sitting up that little bit straighter. _What a woman_ , he couldn’t help but think, despite their current predicament. It was a thought that had struck him often, in their months together. And now it was damn near the only thing he could think about. 

She was magnificent. She was terrible. She was strong. She was _beautiful_. She was so much more than what she seemed, and determined to prove it, and that was the part that struck him the most. Because it was the part he recognised in himself. 

‘Keep your eyes on the road, handsome,’ Goldie quipped, the next time he risked a glance. Scrooge immediately flushed bright red and turned back around with a frown, but he couldn’t help let it turn into a grin when he heard her chuckling behind him. 

Then, suddenly, they were both looking at something else. The forest in front of them began to clear and through the trees they could see the banks of the frozen river. Further ahead, they spotted the bulk of the sled. It appeared they had arrived just in time to find Slick and his goons hesitating over crossing the now thinning ice. 

‘We’ve got them,’ Scrooge declared, victoriously. Goldie grinned and they spurred their steeds on, heading right for the sled. 

Seeing their approaching foes, Slick ordered the sled onward, and his men obeyed - until they hit the ice and nature very firmly disagreed with them. The rails of the sled skidded and sent the whole thing careening into the frozen river bank, while Slick and his men were sent tumbling onto the ice. 

‘Aha!’ Goldie cheered in triumph as they struggled to get up and away. ‘Now we’ve really got them!’ 

Scrooge was on the ground and rushing onto the ice before Goldie had even gotten her leg over to dismount. She whipped out her pistol for good measure and hurried after him. 

Resolved to fight instead of escaping as they’d intended, the two, rather beaten up, men that flanked Soapy Slick steeled themselves for another face off with Scrooge. He took the first down easily, the one Goldie had gotten a shot at. One decent punch from Scrooge’s flying fists was all it took to send him shooting across the ice, where he landed in an awkward heap where the ice met the riverbank. He didn’t move again. 

The other proved more difficult. It seemed their fight and subsequent near escape had riled the fellow right up, and Scrooge was having a job matching his fury after everything that had happened. But he fought on, ducking and weaving, and landing every hit he could, in the hope that eventually, the big lummox would tire.

Goldie, however, only had eyes for Slick. That was, the strongbox Slick carried with him. She ran after him, pistol raised, as he pelted across the frozen river in a last desperate bid for freedom. 

‘Oh no you don’t, you big galoot!’ Goldie cried, firing just a little too close to be considered warning shots. ‘Stop where you are Slick, or I’ll stop you for good!’ 

He slowed, but didn’t stop, and Goldie continued to advance, firing wildly, until she was almost upon him and suddenly he lumbered to a halt, and turned to face her. 

Goldie stopped too, holding out her pistol. Suddenly she noticed just how big Soapy Slick was, when she wasn’t looking at him from the other side of a bar, or up on a stage. Something about the glint in his eye gave her pause. 

‘Hand it over,’ she demanded, jabbing her gun in the direction of the strongbox. ‘I mean it, I won’t miss this time.’ 

Slick just grinned, and held out his arms. 

‘Give it your best shot, Goldie,’ he said.

She frowned. This was not how it was supposed to go. He knew she wasn’t bluffing, he knew her well enough for that. But he was doing a damn good bluff of his own if that’s what it was, and he had begun to move closer. 

‘Not another step!’ She hissed, cocking the pistol. She stared him right in the eye, and he looked straight back. The strongbox at his side was there, mocking her. That small, battered, worthless metal box with all the treasure in the world locked inside. Slick didn’t have any idea what he had, not really. If he did, he wouldn’t be so damn casual with it. 

Still, he advanced, just as he had before only this time, he didn’t have hold of Scrooge as leverage. Goldie couldn’t figure out what his play was but she knew he _must_ have one, and she was running out of time. 

When he was mere yards away, she raised her hand and pointed the gun right between his eyes. He didn’t even blink. 

So she fired. 

And... nothing happened. 

‘No...’ Goldie murmured, staring at the empty barrel in disbelief. She hadn’t miscounted, how could she have miscounted? She always knew exactly how many bullets were in there, it’s why she never lost at roulette. 

Her eyes grew wide as his shadow loomed over her, and when she looked up she saw he was holding a small, bronze bullet in his hand. When she realised he must have snatched it up off the ground when he backhanded her back by the cabin, the bottom dropped out of her stomach. She turned to run but her feet slipped on the ice and before she knew it, her feet were off the ground. 

Goldie struggled in his grasp, his great pink hands like slabs of meat wrapped tightly around her upper arms. He lifted her easily, and she felt his breath on her face, hot and putrid, as he snarled at her. 

‘You need to learn your place, Goldie,’ he said, shaking her firmly. ‘We’re not in the Blackjack now, you ain’t got anything on anyone out here. Can’t swindle your way out of this one.’ 

‘You dummy, Slick,’ Goldie hissed. ‘You had to just come storming into his camp, didn’t you? If you’d a sliver of sense in that pig head of yours you’d have left it to me. I almost had it! The nugget, the deed, the map, the _treasure_. And you think I’d have gone after all that gold on my own? If you’d only stayed put I’d have been back in Dawson before the spring, bringing a wealth of new opportunities with me. But you just had to pick a fight, and bring my whole operation down, didn’t you?’

Slick paused, his eyes narrowed. Goldie stared back at him with such unshakeable calm, that for a moment, she had him. But then there came an almighty splash, and a cry of anguish, and her face gave her away as she twisted around awkwardly to check who had fallen. If the fear on her face hadn’t done it, the relief that washed over her when she saw Scrooge still upright, catching his breath on the ice flow, certainly did. Slick watched her vain attempt to school her features into neutrality with great pleasure. 

‘You talk a good talk O’Gilt, I’ll give you that.’ He growled, grinning. ‘But when it comes down to it, you’re nothing but a jumped up little Dawson whore, who’s gotten way too big for her boots.’ Goldie glared, her hands curling to fists at her sides.

‘You good for nothin’ slime ball, I’ll show you what I think of y-mmph!’ Slick cut off her rant with a clammy paw over her face, clamping her beak shut and twisting her around to face Scrooge. His other hand roamed across her middle, settling just below her breasts. As he squeezed her small body tightly against his barrel chest, crunching her already bruised and broken bones in his grasp, Goldie couldn’t help let out a faint whimper of pain, her face turning white. A single, treacherous tear slipped out and trailed down her cheek. Scrooge froze, watching the scene. 

‘What’s the matter, McDuck? Don’t like to share your whores?’ Slick grinned. Scrooge’s face was turning a fine shade of puce, such was the level of his rage. But he knew one step out of line would put Goldie in even more danger, and Slick knew he knew it too. 

‘Oh, don’t worry, Goldie here don’t hardly mind.’ He taunted, his wandering hand creeping closer to the neckline of her golden dress. He watched Scrooge for a long moment, before taking hold and tugging hard, tearing at the embellished fabric so that thousands of glittering glass beads went scattering across the ice, like golden caviar. Goldie wanted to let out a great cry of rage, but it came out as more of a squeak, muffled and pathetic, and she had never been more annoyed at her diminutive stature than she was in that moment. 

‘Let her go, you hair-brained hog!’ Scrooge growled, his fist flexing at his side. He longed to leap across the ice and land a punch on Slick’s jaw, but the way he had hold of Goldie, shaking her like a rag doll. He could kill her before Scrooge even took another step. As the ice beneath their feet began to waver, Slick continued to taunt. 

‘She likes it rough, don’t you sweetheart?’ He chuckled in Goldie’s ear. ‘But I guess you already knew that, didn’t you, McDuck?’ His hands were moving south now, bunching up handfuls of her silk skirts as he went. Goldie’s eyes were locked with Scrooge’s, silently ordering him not to move, but when Soapy’s brutish paws brushed her thighs, her eyes widened and she lost a little of that resolve. Scrooge felt like his knees might buckle, he was so helpless he felt sick. Slick grinned.

‘Back away, Pipsqueak,’ he warned Scrooge. ‘You don’t want to see what I’ll do if you don’t. Get back on your buck and runaway home, and if you’re lucky I’ll send your whore back to you when I’m done.’ 

Goldie struggled while Scrooge seethed. She’d always known she would be in trouble if Soapy Slick ever turned on her - but up until this point, she’d always had plenty over him that he never had reason to. The Blackjack kept him connected, gave him a base of operations and a pool of punters to swindle however he liked, so long as he was respectful of the proprietor’s position, which he generally was. Goldie had the ear of just about every influential character in town, and the ability to charm newcomers in seconds. She had power, back in Dawson. And then Scrooge came along, and messed all that up. If he had just known what was good for him and left well enough alone - but no. He had to get Slick’s back up, had to challenge her, had to chase after her, had to save her, had to get her stuck in this godforsaken valley with him. Scrooge was the reason she was in this mess, the reason she was currently caught at the mercy of Soapy Slick, of all people. And she should hate him for that, but much to her chagrin, she didn’t. The tortured anguish on his face as he watched her struggle in Slick’s grasp, made her heart ache in her chest. She wanted to get out of this situation so that she could wipe that look off his face, so she could see his eyes light up in hope again, see the blush on his beak when she said something nice to him... she wanted to see just how far she could make that blush go. 

But Scrooge wasn’t blushing right now. His face was red with rage, and Slick had just pushed him to boiling point. At last, Scrooge couldn’t contain it any more, and let out such a roar that it echoed around the valley like thunder. The ice beneath them shifted, and when Scrooge let his fists slam down on the frozen river, it finally gave way. 

Slick stumbled, the ground beneath his feet suddenly rocking at all angles. A chasm appeared in the ice between them and Scrooge. 

Goldie felt his grip grow slack as he tried to stay on his feet, and seized her chance. She raised her knees as high as she could and brought her feet crashing back down, smashing her heels into Slick’s crotch with such force that he immediately dropped her and fell, groaning, onto the ice. Something clattered and when Goldie saw it was the strongbox, she wasted no time in snatching it up and making her escape. She leapt over the widening water and onto the still stable ice at the banks of the river, heading toward their bucks. But when she glanced over her shoulder, she did not see Scrooge hot on her heels as she’d expected. 

Goldie stopped in her tracks, skidding on the ice. She spun around, searching for her duck, and then she finally spotted him, locked in a fierce battle with Soapy Slick, on top of the rocking ice flow which was now beginning to break away even from the rest of the river, and it was starting to flow downstream. 

‘What - Scrooge, what the hell are you doing? I’ve got the box, it’s done, come on!’ 

He didn’t respond, didn’t even seem to have heard her. When Goldie caught a glimpse of his face, red hot with rage and eyes blazing as he rained fury down upon Soapy Slick, she realised. 

‘That _idiot_ , he’s defending my honour isn’t he? I’ll _kill_ him.’ 

And with that thought, Slick finally managed to get in a blow, catching Scrooge in his injured shoulder and sending him staggering back, and almost toppling into the icy water. Goldie’s blood froze in her veins at the thought that she might not get the chance to kill him for getting them into this mess - not if Slick got there first. 

‘Scrooge!’ She yelled, desperately, one last time. They were disappearing downstream and headed towards the thundering waterfall. ‘Leave him and get off the ice, you’re going to get yourself killed!’ 

Again, her words fell on deaf ears. Goldie swore at the heavens and quickly strapped the strongbox onto the holster on her thigh, taking a second to make sure it was secure before hiking up her torn skirts and starting to run. 

She could barely keep up, the river was flowing so fast. And Scrooge and Slick were no more than dots on the horizon. 

‘Damnit, Scrooge,’ she cried as her legs burned from exertion. She ran and ran, but it did no good. She wasn’t fast enough, she couldn’t beat the river. They were going to keep fighting until they went over the edge! And there was nothing she could do about it. 

Just when she was about to give up, collapse in a heap on the side of the river and weep for what her own stupidity had cost her, she heard the thundering of hooves, gaining behind her. At last, she stopped running, but only to turn and find herself face to face with two stampeding caribou bucks. 

Goldie’s eyes lit up, and she wasted no time. As the first one reached her, head bowed, she let herself be scooped up by his mighty antlers and deposited heavily on his back. The strongbox dug sharply into her thigh, but it only served as reassurance that it was still there. She didn’t care about anything else, not now. They were galloping toward the falls at full speed, and what had once been a tiny dot in the distance was beginning to take shape again as that brave, stupid, handsome _idiot_ of a duck. He and Slick we’re apart at last, thought not by choice. The ice had broken up even more, and now both were on their own personal melting ice raft, surfing helplessly toward their doom. 

Goldie set her jaw, and ignored the pain that screamed through her body. Looking about herself, she spied the rope Scrooge had tied to his buck’s antlers not long before, and an idea began to take hold. 

 

 

 

On the river, Scrooge was facing quite the predicament. He knew the falls were ahead, he could hear the crash of water ahead of them, and he knew he had only minutes before both he and Slick would go plummeting over the edge. 

He couldn’t see Goldie anywhere. He told himself that was a good thing - it meant she was safe. He, on the other hand, was really not. He couldn’t jump far enough to reach the safety of the river bank, if he tried he knew he’d just fall into the water and that would be it. He tried his best to angle the ice, summon some kind of control over his direction, but all that managed to do was steer him closer to Slick, which was the last thing he wanted. 

Branches hung over the river, blackened and frozen, and almost certainly too brittle to hold his weight if he did manage to grab a hold of one. Still, it was his only shot, and so every time his little iceberg came close to the low hanging twigs of canopy, he leapt in the air and scrambled for a hold. The first two times he missed completely, but the second he managed to get a hold, only to have the branch break and send him back crashing down onto the ice. He very nearly skidded over the edge but the sharp edges of the fallen branch caught at just the right moment and kept him dry, for now. 

‘McDuck! Pass me the other end of the branch - we’ll have a better shot of getting out of this together!’ Slick’s slimy voice echoed across the rushing water, sending the feather’s on the back of Scrooge’s neck standing on end. The nerve of that lummox of a man, thinking Scrooge would help him after what he’d pulled? After what he’d just tried to do?

‘Pah,’ Scrooge scoffed. ‘So you can double cross me the way you double crossed Goldie? Not likely.’ 

Slick looked surprised, and then resigned. Desire their predicament, he chuckled and shook his head. 

‘She really did a number on you, didn’t she Pipsqueak?’ Scrooge ignored him, and tried again to reach the shore with his broken branch. Again and again he failed, but nothing wavered his determination. ‘It’s happened to the best of us, you know. This ain’t the first time I’ve seen a fella lose their heart and half their mind for the sake of saving Goldie’s skin. But O’Gilt don’t care for anyone but herself, that’s what you got to remember. I’m sure she was nice enough to ya, that’s her way.’ 

Scrooge felt his blood boil, but he couldn’t let Slick distract him. He had to get out of this, had to get back to his claim. 

He had to get back to Goldie. 

‘She used you, Sourdough,’ Slick continued, the familiar nickname catching Scrooge’s attention. ‘Got what she wanted - she’s got her treasure. And now she’s left you to die. Is that what _you_ wanted?’

‘It doesn’t matter what I want,’ Scrooge snapped, echoes of a conversation long past drifting back to him. He turned and faced Slick at last, the useless branch in hand. ‘She’s safe from you, that’s what matters.’

Slick barked a bitter laugh, and gestured at their impending doom. ‘Shame I didn’t have a spunky little duck to keep me safe from her, hmm?’ 

Scrooge growled low in his throat. He didn’t want to listen to this bastard in his final moments. He didn’t want to let Soapy Slick get inside his head, not when his head had precious few moments left. 

As they ran out of river, Slick grew more desperate. 

‘We’re the same, McDuck! You and me! Two grifters against the world! Swindled by the same dizzy dame!’ 

Scrooge shook his head. It wasn’t like that, not any more. He and Goldie were... well, he didn’t know what they were. They were something. They were more than her and Slick were! And sure, she had set out to swindle him at first, but that was before. Before the mammoth, before the winter, before... the storm. And she had poured him coffee, made him breakfast... 

If that was the last thought in his head as he hurtled over the falls into oblivion, then so be it. He thought of Goldie’s beautiful green eyes, her dark lashes fluttering as she looked up at him fondly, the faintest hint of pink on her cheeks when their eyes met. 

He wanted to take her home to Dismal Downs. Wanted to return to Rannoch Moor, rich beyond anyone’s wildest dreams, with the most beautiful woman in the world on his arm, the only person in the world sharper than the sharpest of the sharpies. He would introduce her to his parents, and his mother would lose her mind with excitement. Even his father couldn’t fail to admit he’d done the family name proud. And his sisters - well, they would be unbearable. But they would be so happy, and they would love Goldie, and Goldie would love them. 

What a ridiculous picture, to be in his mind’s eye as he faced his end. The love of his life huddled with his sisters, all of them cackling away at his expense, while his parents looked on. It wasn’t the image he’d thought would accompany him into the unknown, but now that the moment was here, he found there was nothing he longed for more. 

‘McDuck!’ Soapy Slick’s voice cut through Scrooge’s reverie, much to his disgust. Scrooge’s eyes snapped open and at once, he realised why Slick had called out. They were seconds from the edge of the falls, but Scrooge was in luck. He was headed straight for two jagged rocks, that might have been disastrous had he not been positioned exactly right so that the rocks would stop the flow of his block of ice, and save him from toppling over the edge. 

‘The branch! Give it to me!’ Slick cried, desperately. ‘Come on, McDuck, you aren’t going to let me die. Not like this.’ 

If not for the image of his family, still with Goldie on the edge of his mind, he might have denied it. But Scrooge McDuck was no murderer - not intentionally, at any rate. He wanted Slick to suffer for what he’d done, but if he just let him die... well, he wouldn’t be much better than Slick himself. 

Without another moment’s hesitation, Scrooge leapt into action. He braced himself for impact, and when the ice smashed into the waiting rocks, he only staggered a little before he grabbed the branch and swung it round quickly, sending one end in Slick’s worthless direction, giving him once last, precious lifeline. 

Slick caught the branch in his clammy hands, grabbing and tugging for all he was worth. 

‘Careful! You’ll pull us both over!’ Scrooge warned, as he struggled to brace against the rocks under Slick’s significant weight. The ice beneath his feet was disappearing fast, and he realised all too quickly that this was a temporary fix, and not salvation. Sooner or later, the ice would break entirely and he would fall into the water. He might manage to catch hold of a rock and keep himself from going over the edge, but to what end? The river was impossibly wide, there was no way out of this. 

‘Scrooge!’ 

In his delirium, he heard her voice. Hortense and Matilda, his mother and father, they were gone, but the ghost of Goldie still managed to linger. 

 _‘Scrooge!’_  There it was again. So clear, it was almost as if she were standing next to him. But she wasn’t, and thank goodness for that. She was safe. He was done for but she was safe, and that was the thought that would accompany him as he plummeted over the falls to the darkness below. 

‘O’Gilt! Help me!’ 

Slick’s words gave Scrooge pause. It was all very well and good for him to be thinking of Goldie in his final moments, but he had to admit, he considered it an odd choice for Soapy Slick. But he didn’t have time to think on it any further for in that moment, the ice beneath his feet gave way and he heard Slick yell out as the branch connecting them snapped and fell into the raging river below. 

Scrooge prepared himself for the icy cold plunge, but it never came. Instead, he felt two slender, warm arms wrap tightly about his waist and as the ice beneath him crumbled away, he found himself dangling, a foot above the water.

‘Are you alright?’ A voice breathed in his ear, warm and familiar. 

‘G-Goldie?’ Scrooge twisted around and found that it really was her. Suspended over the water, a rope right around her waist, and two faithful caribou bucks holding them steady.

‘It’s me, Moneybags,’ Goldie grinned. ‘Well, me and a couple of your closest friends,’ she nodded at the beasts either side of the river that held them steady. ‘You ready to head back to camp, hmm?’

‘O’Gilt!’ The spluttering cries of Soapy Slick tarnished their reunion, and Goldie glared at him as he struggled to keep a hold of his place on the ice. 

‘Sorry Soapy, I can only save one of you, and I’m putting my money on Scrooge.’ She called after him as he drifted further and further away from them. ‘You couldn’t really have expected anything else, could you? I’m only a Dawson whore, after all.’

At her words, Slick’s expression finally turned to one of resignation and defeat. Goldie didn’t look away, locking eyes with her former ally and watching as he finally reached the edge of the falls and fell. He didn’t cry out any more, he didn’t curse her name to the heavens. He was just... gone. 

Goldie held Scrooge that bit tighter, and his hands came to rest on top of hers.

‘We have to get out of here,’ Scrooge said, urgently. Somehow knowing that she wasn’t going to be thinking straight enough to act. ‘Goldie girl, come on. Back to camp, right?’ 

Goldie shook herself, and nodded. ‘Right,’ she said, raising her voice so that the ears of their steed’s pricked up immediately. ‘You heard the man, back upstream boys. Mush!’ 

Suddenly Scrooge found himself flying, in the arms of an angel no less. Goldie held him tightly as the caribou ran, whisking them out of danger and back upstream. 

When they finally made it back to solid ice, the bucks joined together again and Scrooge and Goldie found themselves dragged along the frozen ground for several yards while their pace slowed and finally stopped. The two ducks staggered to their feet, but Goldie didn’t let go of Scrooge until they were on solid ground once more, and then when she did it was only to turn him round to get a better look at him before she dressed him down. 

‘You idiot,’ she grumbled, patting all over his chest and arms to make sure nothing was broken. Her fingers lingered on his torn and bloody clothing, and danced up to the gash on his temple. ‘You could have been killed - you almost were! If I’d been one second later you’d have gone over the edge and I’d have lost you forever. What were you _thinking_?’

Scrooge frowned. ‘You heard the things he said, and I saw the things he did - tried to do. To you! I couldn’t just let that stand! It... it wasn’t right.’ 

‘Oh, you idiot. You brave, wonderful, _stupid_ man.’ Goldie breathed, brushing a gentle touch across his bloodied brow. He flinched, but only slightly. She smiled. ‘Whatever am I going to do with you?’ 

And then, because there was absolutely no reason not to, she kissed him. 

It was brief, but unmistakeable. She kissed him soundly, and Scrooge froze stock still the moment her beak met his. It was the most remarkable thing, and yet while it was happening they would both swear it was the most natural thing in the world. They fit together perfectly, and not just physically - the moment they touched, their wild spirits combined and became something else.

When Goldie pulled away, Scrooge stayed frozen, a dumb expression on his face. Goldie found herself mirroring it too. For a moment, they just stared at each other, rushing river and bemused caribou entirely forgotten. 

Scrooge came back to himself first, and ran through a rollercoaster of emotions in less than a second. Happiness first, an overwhelming feeling of contentment, quickly followed by a decent helping embarrassment, then suspicion. Was this another trick? Another chance to make off with the map? But then he remembered the warmth of her arms around him when she saved him, remembered how tightly she held him as they got off the ice. No, not a trick. But then, what? Finally, Goldie seemed to blink back into consciousness too, and her eyes glittered as her gaze met his. Suddenly all of the feelings in Scrooge’s wiry little body were replaced with one, all encompassing; an urgent need to do it again. 

He reached for her, and she met him half way. When their mouths crashed back together, there was nothing brief about it. Scrooge didn’t know what the hell he was doing, but Goldie wasn’t complaining and he didn’t have enough brain space left to second guess himself. Be buried one hand in her thick hair, holding the back of her head gently but firmly in place, while his other hand went to the small of her back, pulling her body flush against his. The sound she made, half way between humming and purring, told him he was getting at least something right. 

Goldie’s hands moved to his shoulders, her wrists crossing behind his neck. It wasn’t possible for them to be closer, not without losing a few layers of clothes, but she seemed determined to try. Kissing Scrooge was everything she expected it to be, intense, a little clumsy, but more wonderful than any feeling she had known. She could do this forever. 

Scrooge, however, was on the verge of losing control of himself. The moment her body came into contact with his, he felt desire stirring in the pit of his stomach. He was coiled like a spring ready to snap and he couldn’t have that happen here - not like this, out on the ice, in the middle of nowhere. This moment should be perfect, he reasoned. She deserved more than this.

‘Goldie,’ he gasped, finally breaking contact with her hungry lips. He pulled away but she followed him, stealing another kiss before finally letting him go. Their foreheads rested together, skin burning in the icy cold air as they fought to catch their breath.

‘Well,’ Goldie chuckled, at last. ‘That was a long time coming.’ 

‘Hmm?’ Scrooge frowned against her forehead, the words not quite making it from his ears to his brain. Goldie laughed and patted him gently on the shoulder. 

‘Come on, Moneybags. We ought to be getting back to camp don’t you think? It’ll be dark soon.’ 

‘Hmm?’ Said Scrooge again. Then he shook himself firmly. ‘Oh - yes, of course. Back to camp. Yes.’ 

And he tore away from her as though he’d been burned, his face colouring instantly as if they hadn’t just been engaging in a very mutually beneficial activity. He looked like a school boy who’d been caught eyeing up the teacher by the rest of his class. 

Goldie sighed, and shook her head. Men were ridiculous. She let him busy himself, gathering up their rides and whatever could be salvaged from Slick’s sled - and cutting the dogs loose for their trouble. When he led one of the bucks over to her, ready to help her up, she rolled her eyes and leapt up herself. Her ribs still hurt like hell, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. And when she shuffled back and and gestured to Scrooge, he didn’t waste any time hopping up onto the same beast, settling himself in front of her. Goldie moved forward, pushing herself up flush against his back, and let her hands smooth over his beaten up coat, under his arms and around to rest on his chest. She turned her head so that her cheek rested between his shoulder blades as she held him close to her, and Scrooge leaned into her embrace for a moment, both of them glad of the other to keep them steady after the events of the day. 

‘A nice smooth ride back, hmm?’ Scrooge suggested, squeezing the caribou into action. Goldie nodded in agreement against his back as they began to make their way back upstream, through the winding path of the woodland, onward toward home.

 


End file.
